


It Takes a Village (or a team of superheroes)

by cvsossong



Series: It Takes a Village [1]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Bruce Is a Good Bro, Domestic Fluff, Family, Family Fluff, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fury is kind of a dick, Gen, Getting Together, Humor, Kid Fic, M/M, Parent Tony Stark, Peter Feels, Protective Steve Rogers, Superfamily, Superhusbands, Tony Feels, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony is an awesome dad, kid!Peter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-20
Updated: 2014-07-08
Packaged: 2018-02-05 10:47:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 33,859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1815799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cvsossong/pseuds/cvsossong
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Three months after the Chitauri attack, Tony received a phone call that changed his life. (Or, the one in which a group of remarkable people come together and balance battling villains and raising a child).</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Phone Call

**Author's Note:**

> Rated mature for eventual Steve/Tony sexual situations and some Clint/Phil Coulson. Vague kidnapping themes later on but never detailed. Later depictions of nightmares and some PTSD characteristics on Tony and Steve's parts as well as some injuries and descriptions of the trauma afterwards (I'll warn you when we get there, don't worry).
> 
> find me on [tumblr](http://halfway-punk-rock.tumblr.com/).

Tony was pretty sure that Manhattan would go down in history as “Worst Fucking Day Ever”.

After flying into space with a nuclear missile on his back, falling to earth, waking to the Hulk’s roar, manhandling Loki and watching Thor devour an entire restaurant’s worth of shawarma, it sure as hell felt like it to him.

And to top it all off, Pepper had called and immediately broke up with him, citing his “extreme suicidal tendencies” as reason. As if he had been the one to launch a missile at New York.

Now, three months later, Tony had effectively managed to throw himself entirely into his work. Effective by his standards. At least somewhat.

He wasn’t dead from alcohol poisoning or starvation, so that was a start.

“Tony, it’s been three days since I even saw you. I don’t even want to know when the last time you slept was.” Bruce called from the door to the workshop. Tony continued his scans on the latest armor and swiveled around to face his newest roommate. Bruce had showed up two weeks after the attack claiming that he needed to borrow Tony’s computer system and had never really left. Two and a half days later an entire suite had been built, complete with a padded room designed to contain a herd of rhinos or one very angry Hulk. Tony considered it one of his prouder achievements.

“JARVIS, inform the good doctor when the last time I slept was,” Tony gestured vaguely towards the ceiling and swiveled back around to face his work.

“It has been exactly 49 hours since you last slept, sir, for a total of 3 hours and 17 minutes. You ate half a banana and drank three glasses of scotch afterwards.” Tony was pretty sure that if AIs could emote, JARVIS would be oozing a mix of sarcasm and contempt.

“See? I’m nourished and everything.”

“Tony, you need sleep. And food. And basic hygiene.” Bruce sat down next to him and leaned against the table. “I know it’s been hard since Pepper and you… well, you know…”

“Since she waved goodbye and left for Malibu to run my company?” Tony offered.

“Whatever you want to call it, sure, but you have to take care of yourself. If you want to keep inventing and being Iron Man, you have to find a balance or you’re going to run yourself to the ground.”

“Fine, I can take a hint. But I'm not cooking.” With a groan, Tony pushed himself up and ushered Bruce towards the elevator.

“I took the liberty of ordering Thai food,” Bruce replied.

“That’s why you’re my favorite.”

The elevator dinged for the top floor and Tony and Bruce entered the newly complete penthouse, following the smell of noodles. Tony collapsed on one of the sofas and an exhausted sigh rushed from his lips without warning.

“I said you needed a break,” Bruce said as he pushed a carton into Tony’s hands. Tony muttered something that could have been considered a comeback 16 hours ago and dug into the food with a groan of pure ecstasy.

Several hours later there were four different empty cartons strewn around the suite and Tony was lounging on the sofa, staring at the ceiling. Bruce had gone to bed after forcing Tony to promise the same—he really had planned on sleeping, but there were a million ideas rattling in his head refusing him any rest—and the city outside was annoyingly bright and restlessly bustling.

From somewhere in the apartment, a phone buzzed loudly. It had been doing that for a while now but Tony couldn’t find the motivation to answer it. Now, he rolled over and stumbled off the couch and to his feet. “JARVIS, locate my phone. It’s gotta be around here somewhere, damnit…” he muttered.

“Your cell phone is currently on the counter in the kitchen, sir. As it has been for the past two hours.”

“One of these days I’m gonna totally rewire you, hear me?”

He grabbed for his phone and pressed at the buttons until it stopped buzzing. “Do you have any idea what time it is right now?” he groaned into it, not bothering with any greeting.

_“Um… it’s 10 am? Sir?”_ Huh. No wonder the sun was bothering him.

“Who is this?” he asked, turning to the coffee pot and pressing buttons. Might as well get a head start on the day.

_“You probably don’t know me, but my name is May Parker. I… I have something I need to tell you, Mr. Stark.”_

“Whatever it is, can it wait for a few hours?”

_“I’m sorry, sir, but I really need to tell you this now. There’s… there’s someone you need to meet.”_

“And who is that exactly?”

_“It’s… your son.”_

_\--------------------_

  
After a very minor panic attack (“No, it really wasn’t minor” “Shut up Bruce, I’ve had worse panic attacks in my sleep”) and four cups of coffee, Tony managed to redial the number saved on his phone and have a halfway- sane conversation with the woman (Meg? Mabel?). Apparently her husband’s brother had a wife who had a kid that wasn’t biologically his (or something along that line, Tony had sort of glazed over that part), and no one had really known who the father was because she had refused to talk. In fact, they probably wouldn’t have known for years, except that the two parents had died in a plane crash that occurred during the Chitauri attack and they had taken in the infant. While cleaning out the house, the woman (who Tony now remembered was named May) had found a letter addressed for a Mr. Stark, which detailed the whole one night fling and her subsequent pregnancy, as well as her decision to “hide the child from the spotlight”. It was dated for 10 years from now.

This was very bad.

For one thing, it was pretty clear that the woman had never wanted her child to find out about Tony. The letter had clearly stated that he was never to make contact with the child and was purely for informative purposes should an emergency arise, such as some family disease or—hey, wouldn’t you know it, a freak plane crash over the ocean. In fact, the letter also contained a second copy of the woman’s will, which read that the child would be placed in the care of May and her husband. May had only called because she had felt guilty about hiding a child from its rightful father or something along those lines.

And that was only the first problem. Tony had no idea what he was supposed to do now—did she want money? What was her motivation behind this?—and, more importantly, he was still kind of reeling over the whole _oh-my-god-I-procreated-this-is-terrible_ shtick. Hell, he didn’t even know the kid’s gender.

“Boy or girl?” he asked suddenly, cutting off whatever it was May was trying to say. Something about safe environments or something.

_“Oh, forgive me, I completely forgot to mention. It’s a boy. He’s three and a half months old. Mary named him Peter.”_

Mary. He searched through his memories for someone of that name but came up blank. If the kid was three months now, it would have put the time of conception right before he started dating Pepper, so at least he wouldn’t have to put adultery on his ever growing shit list.

“Okay, here’s my next question, and this one’s a kicker: why exactly are you telling me this?”

_“Well, I just thought that you would want to know. I know that if I had a child out there I would want to know about him. If you’d like, you can see him.”_

Well. That was probably a terrible idea.

“I… I’ll have to think about that, thanks. Listen, I’ve got a… thing, very important thing, crucial really, but keep this number and I’ll… call. Later. I just—”

_“Mr. Stark, you can take as long as you need to think this through. I know this is all very sudden. And it’s a big change. Just call whenever you figure things out and we’ll be here,”_ May replied. She really was a sweet lady. She’d never once blamed Tony or anything, and that was saying something considering how incredibly at fault he was in all this. On so many levels.

Tony hung up the phone and collapsed face first into the couch. Bruce, who had woken up and made tea, was sitting in a nearby armchair and casually watching him.

“So?” he asked simply.

“Fuck my life,” came the muffled reply.

  
\--------------------

  
It took three days for Tony to sit down and work things out. He avoided it entirely before that, throwing himself into work and booze and drawing up designs for hundreds of tech pieces that he would probably never develop and thinking about anything but a miniature him wandering around New York. It took Bruce’s constant reminders via Post-It to finally slap some sense into him.

_You have to talk this through with someone, even if it’s just JARVIS._

_If you don’t confront it you’ll feel guilty for the rest of your life._

_Tony, I swear to God if you don’t get this together I will Hulk out and re-destroy the tower._

Okay, maybe it was that last one especially that did it.

So he sat down in his workshop and locked the door and blared AC/DC as loud as he possibly could and talked. He could do that. Talking was easy for him.  
He made a list, entitled “Reasons Tony Stark Would Fucking Suck as a Dad”. And then below, in big bold words he wrote:

**1\. Because Howard Stark fucking sucked as a dad.**

Which was true. Genius though he was, Howard had drank too much and cared too little and pushed Tony too hard all his life. Tony was already too much like his dad—adding a kid might just send him over the edge.

**2\. StarkIndustries is already my baby.**

It was sort of true. Granted, it was the baby he had passed on to Pepper, but that should speak volumes about how incapable he was of handling any sort of child-related responsibility.

**3\. Workaholic. Alcoholic.**

Yeah, that one was pretty obvious.

**4\. I am unorganized and messy and would probably forget to feed the kid and it would fall down the stairs or something.**

**5\. Pretty sure “playboy” is not a great qualifier for a father.**

**6\. Iron Man is unsafe.**

**7\. Billionaire heir to company= big chance for kidnappings.**

And so on and so forth. By the end of the list he had 23 reasons to never make contact with the kid.

And then he made another list and titled it “Reasons Tony Stark Might Be an OK Dad”.

And he sat there. And sat. And stared at a blank page. And then he called Bruce.

“Tell me I’d be a horrible parent.”

_“You wouldn’t be a horrible parent.”_

“You’re really not understanding the concept of this, Bruce…”

_“Tony. I know you’re sitting down there making lists or whatever and you’re doubting yourself, but trust me when I tell you that you wouldn’t be terrible. Look at StarkIndustries. You managed a multi-billion dollar company for 20- some years and it’s completely successful. The only reason you gave it up is so you could save the world.”_

So he wrote that down: **1\. StarkIndustries hasn’t fallen under yet. That has to show some responsibility. Also, world- saving.**

After that, it flowed a little easier.

**2\. All of my flaws are because I am alone. Maybe they can be fixed?**

**3\. Genius Tony= genius kid.**

**4\. Kids make life a little more bearable.**

That one surprised him. He’d never actually known a kid himself—he’d been an only child and a genius to boot, playing with other kids had never really worked well—but he had seen parents with their sons and daughters, and he’d met a few couples at galas and family friendly functions who had brought their kids along. They’d laughed and run around and one kid had played a prank with Tony on some stuffy board member. He remembered those kinds of functions a little better than the others, the ones where he plastered on a smile and a gorgeous blonde and kissed the ass of every person in the room while schmoozing it up for the media.

Now that he was being honest with himself, he wrote whatever came to mind.

**5\. I have really nice brown eyes. Bet they’d look cute.**

**6\. I make really good mac and cheese.**

**7\. A reason to stop drinking.**

**8\. Robot toys?**

**9\. Disney movies are awesome.**

**10\. It’d be nice to have someone else around the house.**

**11\. Would force order into my life.**

**12\. Cherry flavored medicine would be an acceptable thing to keep in the house again.**

By the time he ran out of energy to write, he was at reason number 56 and still had others floating around in his head.

So he called May.

“I’d like to meet him. Peter. Soon.”


	2. Baby on Board

_Squishy_. 

That was the first thing that came to mind. Peter Benjamin Parker was a tiny, giggly, brown haired ball of squish and drool wrapped in a blue knit blanket. 

Tony took one look at him and fell in love. 

He met May and the baby in some park not far from their house, far away from paparazzi and nosy reporters. They sat at a park bench and watched as Peter swatted at butterflies that flitted by and giggled at the trees and at Tony and at— well, everything. 

"He's a happy squirt, for sure," Tony commented. 

"He hardly ever cries. Just laughs and stares at things all day long." May cooed at the baby and his smile grew. There was a hint of a dimple in his left cheek. Tony was pretty sure he'd never recover. 

He definitely looked like Tony. He had brown cow- licked hair, bright brown eyes with hazel flecks and a small, even nose and the Stark smile. There was really no doubt at this point that Peter was his, but just to be safe he’d kindly asked May for a paternity test before he met the boy. It had come back unerringly positive.

They sat there for about an hour, and May caught him up on everything that had happened in Peter's few short months. He'd started smiling almost immediately and liked blue and red colored things and seemed to have an interest in dinosaur shaped objects but maybe that was because Ben insisted on buying only dinosaurs, and he'd only seriously cried once and that was when he'd had to move in with May and her husband. May told him that Peter seemed to be very intelligent and Tony tried not to preen. 

At one point she asked if he wanted to hold the baby, and Tony just about had another panic attack at the thought. Instead he politely declined and claimed he'd rather wait until Peter felt safer around him. 

When it was time for May and Peter to go, she told Tony he could reach her cell phone almost any time if he ever wanted to see Peter again. 

He made it exactly 5 hours before he called and scheduled another time. 

It continued like that for about a week— they'd meet in a secluded place for about an hour and watch Peter become adjusted to the world and talk about everything related to Peter. May asked every time if Tony wanted to hold him. Tony refused every time. 

Until the Tuesday afternoon when Tony invited May to the tower. He ushered her in through the back and whisked her up the elevator and into the penthouse, and they sat on the couch for the hour drinking coffee. 

"Would you mind if I used your restroom?" she asked at one point. Tony pointed her down the hall and to her right and sat there for a moment before realizing he was alone with Peter. Who was starting to fuss. 

"Hey, don't worry kid, she'll be right back," Tony soothed. He reached into Peter's carrier and carefully smoothed a hand across his stomach, and that seemed to help for a bit. 

When Peter started to fuss in earnest, Tony didn't really think about it. He unsnapped the buckles and reached in and grasped Peter gently, supporting his head with one hand, and lifted him out and into his arms. And just like that he was holding his son. 

Peter smiled up at him and cooed a little bit, wriggling around enough that Tony cradled him closer to make sure he didn't fall. He held him to his chest, mindful of the arc reactor's edges, and leaned back. "See? Not so bad," he murmured to himself. 

When May returned a few minutes later, Tony had the baby leaning against his shoulder and was lying back against the arm of the couch, smiling down as Peter grasped at his shirt.

\-------------------- 

After he’d achieved the feat of holding the baby, Tony became even more obsessed. He ordered every top childcare book off the Internet using a fake name and pored through websites on child development and growth. He bookmarked page after page of baby clothes, supplies, and furniture, with plans to buy them and give them to May and Ben. 

So when May called again about a month later, he was more prepared than he thought he’d be.

_“Ben and I think we should discuss Peter living with you.”_

Okay, so maybe he wasn’t totally prepared, but it was a start.

“What—Why would you think that? Don’t be ridiculous.” Tony got up from his seat on the couch and started to pace. “You’re taking great care of him. Is it something you need? Because I can get it—” 

 _“It’s not what we need, dear, it’s what Peter needs. It’s becoming harder for him to leave you. I think he realizes who you are, and it hurts him to be away from you. He’s started to cry more and he holds the teddy you gave him almost constantly…”_

Six days ago he’d given Peter a stuffed brown bear with a tiny red bow and big black eyes. He had been walking down the street and found a little toy shop with the bear in the front window, and immediately thought of Peter. It made his chest tighten a little hearing that the baby loved it. 

_“I know this is a big decision, and of course you’ll need time to think it over, but we just thought it should be something you should consider.”_

Tony really didn’t _want_ to consider it: he wanted to say yes and bring his boy home where he belonged and never let him go again. But the thought of doing that and somehow messing it up, messing Peter’s life up, made him shake.

“I… I’ll think about it. Thank you.”

Tony went to Bruce in the lab. “So May thinks I should take him.”

Bruce immediately set down his beaker and took off his glasses. “I’m listening.” 

Tony sighed and rubbed his hands over his face. “I just… his mother didn’t want him in the spotlight and I don’t either and… I grew up with that life, Bruce, I dealt with cameras shoved in my face and microphones down my throat since I could roll over and say ‘robot’ and I don’t _want_ that for Peter, I want him to have his own choices and be his own man, not stuck in his dad’s shitty shadow like I was.” He sighed again. It astounded him how much he cared about this.

“Sounds to me like you’ve got a choice.”

“Gee, thanks Bruce, that’s some real Dalai level wisdom there—”

“You could let me finish you know. I was going to say that you’ve got a choice in your personal life more than anything. You can choose to live the same life you’ve always lived, with cameras and parties and women, and let Peter grow up distant but safe. _Or_ you can make the choice to want to raise Peter yourself, and be around him, and make the sacrifices you need in order to do that."

“You mean... what, give up the company? Give up inventing?”

Bruce shrugged. “Whatever sacrifices you make are your decision, Tony. But you have the advantage. You grew up with that ‘spotlight’ life, and you know what to do to make sure Peter never has it.” With that, he turned back to his work.

\--------------------

Tony organized a press conference. He invited a hundred different magazines and newspapers to show up, and waltzed onstage like he always did, flashing his most charismatic smile.

“I’m sure you’re all gripping your seats in suspense as to why I’ve called this conference,” he started, and was immediately bombarded with questions. He held up his hand and waited for silence. “I’m not here to answer questions, I’m here to make a statement. I’ve thought about this long and hard, and due to reasons that are entirely my own…”

He paused, let every choice he'd made and would make wash through his head, made his decision, and barreled through. “That effective immediately I am retiring as Iron Man.”

\-------------------- 

It felt more monumental this time, inviting May and Peter to the tower. Knowing that this was the “official inspection” to decide where Peter truly belonged. Ben came along this time, and Tony finally met him and shook his hand, gesturing them inside before some asshole with a camera phone could spot them. He immediately picked up Peter and cradled him against his shoulder, kissing the temple of his head gently. Peter was about five months old by now and had recently started a phase of putting anything he could reach in his mouth, so Tony generally made sure to hold him while they were in the tower, just in case.

At least, that was his most recent excuse.

This time Tony gave them the official tour, top to bottom, including a constant stream of commentary. He showed them the workshop, then immediately assured them that Peter would never go in there. He showed them Bruce’s lab—and again immediately assured them that was off- limits. They also finally got to meet Bruce, who shook their hands and waggled his fingers at Peter with a shy smile.

“What about the other Avengers?” Ben asked as they took the elevator towards the top floor.

“They have their own SHIELD based apartments. They come by every once in a while, but now that I’ve retired the suit it’ll be social calls only." 

The decision to end Iron Man wasn’t easy. Tony had lost days of sleep, battling over what sacrifices he had to make. In the end, he had realized that Iron Man was just too much public attention. Without the suit and the press that came with it, he could live a more secluded life in the tower, inventing for StarkIndustries and raising Peter. 

And that was what he really wanted.

Besides, he wasn't totally giving up the superhero gig. He'd agreed to sign on as official inventor/designer for SHIELD and the Avengers, and had already come up with schematics for three different weapons for Natasha and twelve possible arrow upgrades for Clint. Fury hadn't been overly happy about losing a team member, but he was getting the fancy Stark tech he'd wanted and that was enough to mostly shut him up on the matter. 

He showed May and Ben the top floor, where Tony lived and where Peter would spend most of his time. He was already in the process of redesigning the place to be more baby proof. Bumpers along the edge of tables, child- proof locks on every cabinet and pantry, new rugs for extra cushion. He had ordered new baby furniture in blue and red colors, just like May had said, and it was being express delivered immediately.

By the end of the tour, even Ben looked impressed. Peter had kept up a steady murmur of babble throughout the day, alternating gnawing on his fingers and Tony’s shoulder. Tony would occasionally murmur back, formulas and equations and the occasional, “You’ll like it here, right squirt? It’ll be fun, you and me.”

Ben clapped Tony on the shoulder and smiled. “I’d say Peter’s in pretty good hands, don’t you, May?” May nodded and smiled.

“If you’d like, Peter can stay here overnight as a trial run. We’ve got a bag with everything you’d need for the night in our car,” she told Tony. He grinned and nodded.

“Sounds like a plan to me.” Peter cooed as if in agreement. 

That night was probably the greatest night of Tony’s life to date. After Ben and May drove off and Tony had successfully scolded himself for being nervous over one night, he sat on the floor with Peter in his lap and leaned against the couch. “Alright, Peter Rabbit, I'm all yours.” Peter squealed and grabbed Tony’s shirt in response, and Tony chuckled. “How about a book?” He pulled out one of the picture books he had, something he had bought in bulk when May explained that while Peter wouldn’t understand them now he’d learn from hearing the words and Tony's voice and, besides, he liked the colors in the pictures.

They read for about two hours, stopping only when the sun slanting through the windows or Tony's tangled hair distracted Peter, who grabbed at both insistently. When Peter started to fuss, Tony made up the formula May had packed and sat cross- legged on the couch to feed him. Peter stared up at him the whole time, apparently fascinated by his newest caretaker. Tony stared right back.

Then it was bath time, which was slightly more unnerving. Tony was afraid to blink for fear of drowning the baby in the small plastic tub he had bought. However, Peter just laughed and splashed the water and tried to put the rubber ducky in his mouth. He laughed while Tony dried him off and laughed while Tony changed his diaper and put him in his onesie and laughed right up until Tony gently lowered him into the crib he had bought, humming "Stairway to Heaven" in low, soft tones as he did.

Once Peter had drifted off, clutching his slightly ragged teddy bear with one hand, Tony sat in the room for a while and watched him sleep. A part of this was still surreal, like some perfect dream world that Tony would wake up from and lose. Another small voice in his head argued that he would fail, just like his father had failed. And the thudding in his chest insisted that this was wrong, that Tony should run while he could and go back to his life of blissful ignorance.

But one tiny, fluttering voice whispered that he could do it, that he _should_ do it, and do it better than Howard, better than anyone. That he would give Peter the best life he could have, because Tony would be there every step, every moment of the way. And that was the voice that won.

\-------------------- 

Peter only cried for a few hours when he moved into the tower a month later. He was clearly unsure about the new surroundings, and those few hours made Tony question every decision ever made.

But soon Peter was distracted by his toys, and he was familiar enough with the tower from his prior visits that he quickly grew used to the new setting. Peace resumed in the tower, and Tony quickly and unexpectedly fell into a routine.

Every morning he woke up before Peter and took care of his own needs before the baby’s giggling called him back into the room. Tony had insisted that the crib stay in his room, at least for the first few months, so it was easy to hear when Peter woke up. Then it was breakfast, playtime for Peter and a few hours’ work for Tony, lunch, a nap and more work, dinner, bath, story time, sometimes accompanied by a classic rock song hummed in soft tones (which Tony had perfected into an art), then bed, and a few hours for Tony to wrap up whatever work he had started that day before heading off to bed himself. Ironically, Tony was getting more sleep now that he had an infant to schedule around.

Bruce moved in and around the schedule flawlessly, offering to help when he could and even taking a break to eat or play with them occasionally. He was more reserved around Peter at first, partly from caution over the Hulk, but as he grew more used to Peter and became more comfortable he switched more into the personality that Tony had grown used to. 

The other Avengers eventually arrived to greet the newest Stark addition, which caused quite a bit of chaos. They hadn’t even informed Tony they were coming—he nearly jumped out of his chair when he heard “Greetings, brother Stark and his child of Midgard!” booming from the hallway. 

Thor bounded into the room, arms outstretched, and Tony stood to greet them while Peter looked on curiously from his seat on the floor. The others filed in, and Clint immediately stretched on the floor and stared at the baby.

“He looks pretty normal,” Clint commented. He poked at Peter’s belly and the baby let out a giggle. “Acts pretty normal.” Peter grabbed at Clint’s hand and gnawed on his finger. “Kinda squishy.”

“Thank you for your ever- useful commentary, Barton,” Tony replied dryly, opting not to mention that he had once had the same reaction.

“He is a fine example of your virility, Man of Iron!” Okay, that was seriously weird, but Thor was grinning at him like it was the greatest compliment he could give (and maybe it was, considering the demi- god’s muscles), so he let it slide without a comment. Progress came in small steps.

Steve, who had been standing behind the couch, moved over next to Peter and crouched down. Peter grabbed at Steve’s arms and made to roll over, and Steve steadied him and lifted the boy into his arms. “He’s strong,” Steve smiled. He looked up at Tony. “He looks like you.” And yeah, maybe Tony grinned a little wider at that.

They stayed for a few hours, eating all the pizza that Tony ordered and artfully avoiding any discussions involving Iron Man or superhero- related topics in general. And Tony liked them just a little bit more for that.

And that night, when he was putting Peter to bed, he kissed his son on the forehead as usual. And his son, exactly six months and fourteen days old, grabbed his cheeks and kissed him back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updates will happen as it comes to me— this was supposed to be a short fic with just a toddler Peter and ended up being a small life story. Sorry not sorry.


	3. New Roommates

“Daddy. Daddy. Daddy. Daddy.”

Tony peeked an eye open and was greeted with the view of Peter’s eyes and nose and a brown bear shoved in his face. He closed his eye again.

“Petey, what are you doin’ out of bed?” he asked groggily.

“Mo’ning! Food!” was the overly- enthusiastic reply. Tony groaned. His son was decidedly _way_ too chipper in the mornings.

Peter was two years and three months old, and had grown from a squishy baby into just about the cutest (still slightly squishy) kid Tony had ever seen. Okay, so maybe he was a little biased, but still. Peter had enormous chocolate eyes and a dimple for his wide, toothy smile and his thick brown hair always stuck up at odd curls and angles that no one could ever tame, and he was absolutely perfect.

Except when it was 6 am and he was poking Tony in the face.

Tony rubbed his hands over his face and pushed up onto his elbow. “Alright, alright, Daddy’s up. Just gimme a moment to wake up.”

“No!” Ah, that was the other thing. The ‘no’ phase had arrived.

“Is that how it’s going to be today?” he asked as he stood up. Peter immediately held out his arms in his universal ‘up’ gesture. Tony obliged as always and settled the boy on his hip.

Developmentally, Peter had hit every milestone slightly ahead of the norm. He had spoken his first words at six and a half months (It was “daddy” and then immediately “’obot”. Tony had JARVIS record it and file it in the servers.) and was standing at nine months. Walking had come soon afterwards and had probably added a few gray hairs on Tony’s part, but he very quickly caught on to that and immediately began running—and wasn’t that such a treat.

Peter had only hit one major speed bump so far, in the form of a coughing attack when he was about one and a half that led to wheezing and difficulty breathing for a few days. Bruce had checked him out, as had several other doctors, but none of them could say for certain what it was until a “pattern had developed”, as one doctor explained. It hadn’t happened since, though Peter occasionally still let out a few hacking coughs that had Tony worried.

“Alright, Peter Pan, what do you want for breakfast?” he asked as they entered the kitchen. Bruce was already there, freak that he was, sipping on some weird herbal tea thing he liked and reading the paper. He smiled as they passed and Peter waved hello. “Unc' B'uce” was probably his second favorite person next to Tony.

“Pan’kes,” he said decisively. Tony grinned.

“You’ve had pancakes four days in a row; sure you don’t want something different?” he asked.

“No!”

“Okay, okay, pancakes it is.”

The day continued on as it normally did—after breakfast, Tony helped Peter get dressed and brush his teeth, and then Peter watched cartoons while Tony got ready for the day. They went for a walk through the city (Tony had learned the best ways to keep a low profile in public over the years) that ended in the park, where Peter played with the other kids or with Tony until he wore himself out. After lunch he took a nap, during which Tony worked on his projects. Fury just happened to call that day, and he sounded pissed—or, more so.

_“Stark, what the hell do you think you’re doing?”_ Wasn’t that the 64 thousand dollar question.

“Right now, sitting and talking to a very angry sounding Saint Nick. Something on your mind?” he asked, lounging against the arm of the sofa and offhandedly perusing his scans for Natasha’s Widow’s Bite.

_“You had a deadline for three days ago. You missed it. So I’ll ask again—what the hell, Stark?”_ Tony could visualize the vein pulsing in Fury’s neck right about now.

“If you’d kindly refer back to my contract, I’m granted a five- day grace period concerning all technology and weapons not related to the Avengers. And some cell phone repairs are not my highest priority at the moment, sorry.” He tapped out a few codes and switched over to the arrow designs. Barton had requested a few upgrades on the exploding ones.

_“Stark, it’s not a ‘few cell phones’, it’s the entire damn comm system. Almost all of the communication devices are bust and—”_

“You’re afraid of compromising the blah blah blah with all your lesser technology, yes, whatever. How bad is it?”

_“If I knew that I wouldn’t be calling you, now would I?”_

“Touché. But I have Peter, and Bruce is there at SHIELD labs today, so I’ve got no one to watch him. Leaving you two choices: suck it up, or let a toddler wander through your top- secret funhouse.”

There was a long- suffering sigh on the other line. _“Damn it, Stark, you couldn’t have kept your dick out of one goddamn woman. Fine, bring the boy. Just get here fast.”_ There was an audible click suggesting Fury had slammed his phone.

If anyone else had even suggested that Peter was a mistake, Tony would have returned the armor to battle for the sole purpose of shoving a pole up their ass. But Tony was used to Fury’s little snarks and had long since settled with making his every day a living hell. Anonymously hacking into the outdated office communication systems at SHIELD and playing “Barbie Girl” on repeat had been his latest dose.

It was worth it.

“Daddy?” he heard from the hallway, and turned to see his boy rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

“Hey, Peter Pan, how was your nap?” he asked, standing and walking over. Peter held out his arms and Tony bent and picked him up.

“I hung'y,” he replied, looking at Tony hopefully.

Tony kissed his boy’s nose and smiled. “We can get a snack, but then you have to come in with me to SHIELD for a bit, okay?” Peter nodded. “And if you’re really good, we can go see the Avengers afterwards.”

That did it. Peter beamed and clapped his hands, nodding that, yes, he’d be good. “The ‘Vengers” were Peter’s favorite superheroes by far, and he never got to see them often enough in his mind. It didn’t hurt that they all adored him, either.

Tony cut up some fruit into a bowl and poured a cup of milk for Peter, and made half a sandwich for himself while Peter ate and watched cartoons. They had just made an Avengers animated show, and Peter was a little obsessed with it. Iron Man was involved with the team somehow—he wasn’t entirely sure why, he guessed it had to do with ratings and such—and the little boy loved being able to see his daddy in action.

Tony had successfully managed to keep Peter out of the limelight for the past few years, by using Parker as the boy’s last name in any public related situation. Legally, he was Peter Benjamin Parker Stark, but Tony wasn’t taking any chances, and Stark was enough of a household name that using it would bring immediate media speculation. For now, Peter was away from the cameras and that was all that mattered.

“Daddy, I take pit’ers?” Peter asked from his seat on the couch. Tony collapsed next to him and looked towards the “pit’ers” he referred to, a series of pictures Peter had torn out of a coloring book and scribbled on in crayon scattered over the coffee table. They were everything from a pink dinosaur to a green and blue dancing ballerina in a polka dot tutu. Tony already had about fifteen of them hanging on the fridge and in his bedroom.

“Yeah, squirt, I bet they’d like that.” He scooped Peter up and plopped the giggling boy into his lap, kissing his temple. “But remember you have to behave when we get to SHIELD. No running off or misbehaving, or else Fury’ll swoop down and send you off to Siberia to hunt Nazis like Cap.” Peter nodded solemnly.

It was starting to get cold outside, and the October winds were particularly strong today, so Tony made sure Peter had a thick jacket and a hat on and tugged on a jacket himself before they headed out. Tony slipped a pair of sunglasses on and made sure to keep his head slightly down as they walked. Fortunately, no one was looking for Tony Stark carrying a kid, so they went unnoticed.

They arrived at a nondescript grayish building about 20 minutes later, and Tony scanned his card to gain access. Inside, the white tile floor led to a gray desk where a young woman typed precisely away at her keyboard.

“Afternoon, Jennifer,” Tony said as they walked to the desk. Tony signed both of them in as the secretary turned and smiled.

“I didn’t know it was ‘Take Your Kid to Work’ day,” she replied.

“I get special privilege since Fury likes me so much.” A scanner popped up and Tony obligingly placed his hand on the pad and waited while they verified his identity.

“You know the drill. All visitors have to scan, as well,” she nodded towards Peter, who was staring up at the glass ceiling with deep fascination. Tony managed to guide his hand to the scanner and she nodded and handed over a guest pass.

It didn’t take overly long to reboot the comm systems and get rid of the bug he had set (though he did make sure that Fury’s turned off last), and Bruce met them in the elevator as they headed down to the gym.

“How’re the new weapons looking for the team?” Tony asked. Bruce shrugged.

“They’ve had me locked in the labs all day; some mad scientist tried to release a biological weapon that malfunctioned and now they’ve got like ten SHIELD agents in medical with various physical deformities. One guy grew a beak. An honest to God beak, Tony. And they want me to fix it.” Bruce leaned against the wall and rubbed his hand over his face. Peter giggled and mimicked the movement, scrubbing his face rigorously. Bruce smiled tiredly as the doors opened.

“You know, if that kid were any cuter I’d have to ask if he was really yours, Stark,” a dry voice said from the door. Tony looked and saw Clint leaning against the glass that surrounded the gym, grinning cheekily.

“You're just jealous that he got the Stark trademark looks and you're stuck with your freakish face,” he replied.

“I wear my freak status with pride,” Clint shrugged.

“Whatever helps you sleep at night. How’re the adhesive arrows?” Peter wriggled out of Tony’s arms as he walked into the gym and stumbled over to Clint, immediately holding up his arms again.

“You’re a picky one, aren’t you, squirt?” Clint asked him, bending down and scooping him up. “And they’re working okay, but they don’t seem to stick to smooth glass as well as they do bricks.”

“I’ll take a look at it, it’s probably the cohesive material…” Tony started running different formulas in his head as he watched the others finish sparring. Steve and Natasha were going at it—at least, he thought that red blur was Natasha—with that one- armed guy that Steve used to run with in the 40s (what the hell was his name again?), and the new guy (Seth? Saul?) was flying around and dodging Thor’s hammer swings while the god laughed heartily. Tony didn’t even know it was possible to laugh heartily like that, but Thor consistently proved him wrong.

“Thor!” Peter cried. The god was his favorite playmate, always willing to stoop to his level and play in the dirt with him. Thor boomed another laugh and swooped down beside him.

“Young Stark, it is an honor that you have come to greet us,” he chuckled, mussing Peter’s hair with an enormous hand. Seriously, Tony would be a lot more cautious about Thor if the man weren’t so similar to a giant teddy bear.

“Hey, the half- pint’s here,” One-Arm said as he blocked four different kicks from Natasha. Steve hooked his shield onto the magnetic holder he carried on his back and stepped away from the fight, walking towards them.

Steve and Tony’s relationship was… odd. They'd had a rocky start on the Helicarrier, and every once in a while Tony remembered that Steve had known his father and had compared him to that asshole and he got a little pissed. But after Manhattan, they had smoothed things out and had become pretty cordial. Steve had gone on a self- discovering road trip and then spent time in D.C. with Natasha and New Guy, finding One-Arm (Bucky, that was his name, right) and de- brainwashing him or whatever. They had taken another road trip, hunting down the Hydra agents that had infiltrated SHIELD, which landed them back in New York after a few months. By the time they had arrived, Tony had retired Iron Man and was totally focused on Peter, so he and Steve never developed past friendly acquaintances.

Peter, on the other hand, adored Steve with every ounce of his being. Ask the boy who his favorite superhero was, and he’d answer Captain America every time. With anyone else, Tony would have minded. A lot. But there was something about his son loving America’s Golden Boy that would make Tony feel guilty about being jealous. So he let it slide.

“Cap!” Peter cried. Steve grinned as Peter practically jumped out of Clint’s arms and into Steve’s (and yeah, that was pretty adorable, not that Tony’d ever tell.)

“Hey, Peter,” Steve chuckled. Peter grinned at him and pulled out his crumpled drawings. “Hey, you brought some pictures? Can I see?”

“Uh huh.” While Peter showed Steve the pictures one at a time, Tony and Bruce started a discussion with Natasha and Bucky on their weapons. The new guy (Sam, that's it; Tony really needed to write this shit down) asked for some technical help with his wings, which Tony tried not to drool over, and Thor started a light sparring match with Clint.

“Alright, fuckers, I’ve got a mission for you,” Fury shouted from the doorway after about an hour. Tony flinched and grimaced a bit.

“Fury, darling, light of my life—quit cursing in front of my kid,” he snapped.

“You procreated him, Stark, not me. I don’t give a shit how impressionable he is.”

Tony turned to give the one- eyed fucker a piece of his mind, and saw Steve sitting with Peter in his lap and his huge hands over the boy’s ears. He smiled at Tony’s nod of gratitude.

Fury turned to Natasha and Bucky. “You two are going with Rogers to D.C.” Steve stood and set Peter on the bench.

“Something happening?” he asked. “The alert hasn’t gone off for an attack or anything.”

“There’s a rally on the steps of the Capital that’s been going on for too long.” Fury waved his hand dismissively. “One of the senators called in a favor. You three go and subdue the crowd.”

“The people have a right to freely protest whatever they choose,” Steve argued. Of course he would be the one to argue for a Constitutional right.

“What _are_ they gathering for?” Natasha asked.

“Some equal marriage rights… thing. Hell if I know. Just go… get rid of it.”

“Equal marriage?” Bucky asked. “Equal for who? I thought everyone could marry. Unless it's, like, marrying animals or something.”

“He means same- sex marriages,” Clint cut in. “Like, for gay couples.”

“Isn’t that illegal?” Bucky looked at Clint.

“What the hell did you just say, asshole?” Clint sounded pissed now.

Bucky shrugged and held up his hands. “Hey, don’t worry about it, I’m not against it or anything. We grew up in Brooklyn; we had like three gay bars on our street alone. One had some real good moonshine. But it was illegal to be out and public during the 40s.” He looked at Steve, who nodded in agreement. “If it’s not now, that’s just fine, but I wanna know how it’s not illegal but they still can’t get married.”

“It’s… complicated. Conservatives don’t want to go against the Bible or whatever, but they figured they couldn’t imprison someone just for loving another person. So they said ‘hey, it’s cool if you live together, but you can’t make it legal’. Some states allow it now, like New York,” Tony explained. “Others don’t. The crowd’s probably in D.C. to protest the ones that still outlaw it.” 

“And I'm not going to stop them. If it’s a peaceful protest for civil rights, we have no cause to send in any Avengers, let alone three of them.” Steve glared at Fury, his mouth set in a tight line. He had his "Cap Tone" going; it was pretty hard to argue with it.

“That’s not up to you, Captain. You follow orders and that’s the end of it.” The vein was starting to pulse in Fury’s neck. Tony idly wondered what it would look like if it popped one day.

One could only hope.

“Hey, Steve and I fought for the freedom for one group of people. We’re not gonna oppose a group trying to do the same,” Bucky replied. He stood and crossed his arms, looking a little menacing.

“You are members of the Avengers. The Avengers work for SHIELD. I run SHIELD. You will follow these orders.”

“Or what?” Bucky snorted. “You’ll kick us off your super squad?”

“You all have living quarters here.” Fury smirked at the rest of the group. “If you don’t go to D.C. you’ll find your rooms emptied by the end of the day.”

“Seriously? You’re gonna throw us out?” Clint snapped. “That’s a load of—”

“Then they’ll stay in the Tower,” Tony interrupted.

It wasn’t really that big of a leap. Bruce already lived there and there was more than enough room. Plus his son loved every member of the team like they were family. Still, Tony couldn’t help but feel a little nervous over the thought of jumping from three residents to nine. But he also wasn’t going to let Fury pull this diplomatic bullshit, either.

“Seriously?” Steve was looking at him a little strangely—okay, maybe it was a little out of the blue, but come on.

“Seriously. There are empty suites all over the tower. Fury kicks you out, you can come party with me. Hell, you can come even if Fury backs out of his little threat.”

Fury looked ready to rip Tony’s head off with his bare hands, but fortunately Steve was standing between them at the moment.

There was silence in the gym for a moment, and then Clint shrugged and raised a hand. “Alright, I'm in. SHIELD quarters sucks.”

“Agreed.” Bucky gave Tony a wry grin. “As long as the offer extends to all of us.”

“Wouldn’t have said it if it wasn’t all- inclusive.”

“This isn’t supposed to be a goddamn discussion. You’re members of the Avengers and you follow the orders you’re given!” Fury shouted.

“Language,” Tony muttered.

Natasha pushed herself off the wall and headed for the door. “I’m going to pack,” she told the team, and then turned to Tony. “Can we arrive about 6?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hooray! New chapter! Also I started this fic at like 3 am on a whim and it's my first fanfic ever so it's crazy for me how many people are commenting and leaving kudos and all that. Seriously, I love you all, this is so amazing :) If you have any suggestions for the story, let me know— I've already got the next chapter mostly done and it should be up by tomorrow, and I'll probably do one from Peter's POV, but if you've got a request leave it in the comments and I may use it!


	4. The Return of Iron Man

_“You know, I really wish these assholes would find some other city to attack. Budapest, for example.”_

Tony grinned as he watched the team gather around the massive tentacle robot from his camera feeds. “If they attacked somewhere else Fury'd just make you travel farther. This way you’re back before dinner.”

_“Which you’re totally buying, by the way. If you get to sit on your ass and call shots while we’re out here busting our balls, you can at least spend your money on us.”_

“Deal. I was thinking pizza. Watch your 7 o’clock.” Clint turned and fired an explosive arrow at one of the tentacles.

_“Can you two please focus?”_ Steve sounded a little exasperated, but that could just be from dodging three tentacles at once.

_“I am totally focused. 100%. You know, if I were a dirtier man I could make a porn joke.”_ Tony saw Clint grin wickedly.

_“I don’t even know what that’s supposed to mean.”_

“We’ll show you later. Actually, scratch that. We’ll pull it up on the Internet and leave you alone in a locked room to experience it later.”

_“That is definitely never happening. Sam, on your left.”_

_“Oh for the love of fuck—”_ Sam turned around and swung his fist.

This was how most operations went. Since the Avengers had moved into his tower, he had become a sort of handler for them. While they were out on missions he’d have JARVIS hack into the cameras in the area, and he’d call shots and figures for the team. It had helped keep the team safer and gave Tony something to do during missions.

It wasn’t that Tony felt useless. It was just… okay, he felt a little useless. Since he wasn’t Iron Man anymore and yet still lived in a house full of superheroes, all he ever heard about was “mission this” and “covert ops that” and frankly, Tony had been getting a little sick of it. So when Steve came to him with the idea that he could be their _real_ eye in the sky, Tony jumped on the chance.

Peter came padding into the room and Tony muted his comm. “How was your nap, baby boy?”

“I dreamed I was a spaceman!” Peter giggled.

“You did? Where’d you go?”

“Off into the stars. Like you did, Daddy.”

Three weeks ago, just before Peter’s third birthday, a special news report had replayed the footage from the Chitauri attack and shown Iron Man carrying the missile into space. Peter had been in the room and had refused to leave, no matter how much Tony begged and bribed, claiming he wanted to see “daddy beat the bad guys”. Tony had to leave the room eventually to prevent his panic attack from scaring his son.

Now Tony gave a half- smile. “I’m glad you had a good dream, Peter Pan. Wanna come sit with Daddy and help the Avengers?”

“Yeah!” Tony sat on the couch and Peter climbed into his lap, wriggling around until he was comfortable.

“No cursing, guys, Peter’s up,” Tony said as he turned his transmission back on.

_“Hey, squirt, did you come to help us kick this guy’s—”_

“Seriously, Clint.”

_“I was gonna say ‘butt’, calm your tits.”_

“Oh, for the love of God.”

“Uncle Clint said a bad word, Daddy.”

Tony grinned and kissed the top of his head. “Yes he did, baby, and that’s why we…?”

“Never ever listen to Uncle Clint,” Peter recited.

_“I would resent that a lot more if your kid weren’t so adorable.”_

“Thanks. Also, any ideas on how to beat this thing?” The robot had now somehow started breathing fire.

_“I thought that was your thing!”_

“Right, sure. Okay, umm… There’s a hatch on the robot’s left side. Probably leads… somewhere, I don’t know. Just start cutting wires.”

_“What a technical genius you are, Stark.”_

After the robot had been disposed of (“Yes, Stark, you were right, congratu-fucking-lations”) and the team had taken their customary SHIELD medical field trip, they put on Peter’s latest Disney film obsession.

“I’m confused. If she’s the princess, why is she locked in the tower with the witch?”

“She doesn’t _know_ she’s the princess, Clint. The witch kidnapped her as a baby and locked her away, so she has no idea. She thinks that’s her mother.” Natasha came in with a towel around her shoulders and collapsed on the loveseat next to Bucky.

“But she looks just like the baby princess.”

“She hasn’t left the tower, how would she know what the baby princess looked like?”

“But how does she talk to the lizard?”

“First off, it’s a chameleon, Clint, for God’s sake.”

“This is a kid’s movie and you’re confused over the basic stuff?” Tony asked from the couch. Peter was curled up in his lap, happily munching on buttered popcorn, pausing every once in a while to let out a small cough.

After Peter kept getting coughing attacks every few weeks, Tony had taken him to a breathing expert to discuss the problem. The doctor informed them that Peter had asthma and was doing too much physical activity; the more he jumped and ran around, the worse his breathing got. Since then, they’d had to find other ways to entertain the boy—which usually narrowed down to sitting on the couch in front of the TV.

They’d seen a lot of Disney movies recently.

“Hey, I didn’t have a childhood. I was in a freakin’ circus, I shot things off of people’s heads for a living,” Clint argued.

“I was frozen in ice for 70 years and I still get it,” Steve commented from the kitchen.

“I was brainwashed by Nazis for 70 years and I still get it,” Bucky added.

“You can all go to hell.”

“Potty word!” Peter said, and threw some popcorn at Clint.

“Sir, Agent Coulson is on the line for you,” JARVIS said.

“Tell him I'm out.”

“I’m afraid he’s insisting, sir.”

Steve brought Tony’s cell phone over and dropped it next to him. “Just answer the phone, Tony.”

Tony groaned and picked up the phone. “This had better be important.”

_“Open the tower, Tony.”_

“Make me.”

_“I swear to God I will taze you, Stark. Open the door.”_

“Fine, God.” He punched in a few codes and hung up the phone. “Agent’s on his way up.”

Bucky groaned and leaned his head back. “We can’t catch a break, can we?”

“Not today, Barnes,” Coulson replied from the elevator doors. “Stark, you’ll want to take a look at this.”

Tony paused the movie and switched to JARVIS’ camera feed channel. “Where is it?”

“Everywhere.”

Tony turned to look at Coulson, who was grimly staring out the windows. When he followed the man’s gaze he saw fire. A lot of fire.

“Well, that looks… horrible,” Bruce cleaned his glasses on his shirt nervously.

“JARVIS, pull up some camera feeds for… what, Queens? That looks like Queens.”

Several security camera feeds popped up from Liberty Avenue, where mass terror had erupted. Several buildings were collapsed, and the people that were still alive were running in terror. Tony curled Peter a little tighter to his chest and shielded his boy’s eyes.

“What caused this?” Clint asked.

Coulson looked at Tony with a grim expression. “HammerTech. Justin Hammer released several robotic droids. They’re similar to the suit, Tony.”

Justin Hammer was, for lack of a better term, a dick. Actually, he was more than that—he was _the_ dick. For years his company had been competing with StarkIndustries, and Hammer took it personally that SI had better tech. He’d been trying for years to replicate the Iron Man armor, but had massively failed every time. At one point he had hired a Russian thug, who’d hacked into Rhodey’s suit and tried to take Tony out. That hadn’t ended well for him. Hammer _should_ have been in prison after that, but his connections with Senator Stern (Hydra rat bastard) got him out early.

“Alright, Avengers, let’s go.” Steve headed for the elevators and the others stood.

Part of Tony wanted to wish them the best of luck and stay behind, with his son. But he saw the security feeds, and all the citizens in harm’s way, and knew he was being selfish. He had the ability to fight Hammer, and the experience, and he had to do something.

“Wait.” Tony stood and settled Peter on the couch. “I’m coming, too.”

“Tony, you can’t go into battle—”

“Hammer’s after me. He always is. Whatever tech he created is based after mine. I’m not going to let innocent people die because some jerk tried to copy me. Go, I’ll meet you in Queens.” Tony waved them off and knelt down to meet Peter’s eyes as the others left to prepare.

“Are you gonna fight the bad guys, Daddy?” Peter asked with wide eyes.

“I’m gonna try, Peter Pan, but you have to promise to be good, okay?” Tony turned and called up to JARVIS, “Call Happy and tell him to get up here, J. He’s on babysitting duty. And prepare the suit.”

“Immediately, sir.”

“Stark, I can watch him.” Tony turned to Coulson, who shrugged. “I handled Barton for years. I can take care of a three year old. Go suit up.”

Tony nodded and took a deep breath. “JARVIS, scratch calling Happy. Just get the suit ready.”

“Sir, the Mark III is the only suit functioning enough to take into battle.”

“It’ll have to do, J.” Tony stood and started to walk for the launching pad.

“Daddy.” Tony turned back and saw Peter sniffling and wiping his eyes. “You’re gonna come back, right?”

“I’ll always come back for you, baby.” He hugged Peter tightly and kissed the top of his head. “Now, wish me luck.”

The suit was still in pretty good condition, considering it hadn’t been touched in three years. He stepped onto the pad and walked while it closed around him. It sort of felt like coming home.

_“Stark, these droids kind of suck. They have, like, no defensive capabilities,”_ Clint reported as Tony flew towards the scene.

“So what’s the bad news?”

_“There’s a shit ton of them and they seem to keep multiplying.”_

“Yeah, Hammer’s always been a ‘quantity not quality’ kind of guy. JARVIS, see if you can hack into one of the droid’s systems. Let’s find out what makes them tick.”

Tony landed next to Steve, who was currently ripping the head of a fallen droid. He turned and nodded in greeting. “They’re crawling out of the woodwork. They have tech similar to your repulsors, but they’re weaker and the droids can’t aim,” Steve explained. “We found that the easiest way to end them is a headshot.”

Tony nodded. “Then let’s get to work.”

\--------------------

Phil slung his jacket over a chair and rolled up his sleeves. He glanced over at Peter, who was coloring in a picture of a polar bear from one of the books Tony had set out for him, and then focused on the security cameras.

_This kid is way too much like Clint_ , he thought idly to himself. That used to be how he’d distract the marksman, too.

“Agent?” Phil glanced over at Peter, who’d paused in coloring the sky bright purple and was looking at him.

“You know I do have a first name, Peter.”

“Daddy says that is your name.”

_That’s because your dad thinks he’s hilarious._ “What is it?”

“The ‘Vengers are gonna be okay, right?”

Phil sighed and sat next to Peter on the ground. “I’m sure they’ll be fine, don’t worry.”

Peter grinned. “Good. Wanna color with me?”

\--------------------

_“Thor, for the love of God, quit shooting lightning at me.”_

Bucky’s voice crackled through the comms, followed by the sounds of a blast and metal crashing.

Thor flew overhead, laughing enthusiastically like this was some kind of game. “I apologize, friend Barnes! Perhaps you should keep a better eye out!”

_“Son of a Nordic bitch,”_ Bucky muttered. _“Stark, on your 6. Two droids inbound.”_

Tony swerved onto Roosevelt Avenue and turned so he was flying belly- up. “I see them.” He fired two rockets from his boots at the one on his right and flew up, turning sharply and grinning when the second hit a building. Hulk crashed by, throwing droids left and right and roaring incoherently. Clearly he was having fun.

“Where are all these things coming from?” Sam shouted as he flew in next to Tony.

“Working on it now.” JARVIS had been running scans for the past 20 minutes but had turned up empty so far. It was like they were just popping out of the ground, little bastards—

“Oh my fucking god.” Fuck Hammer. Fuck him with a brick in the middle of a snowstorm, this was so fucking cliché. “JARVIS, check the sewer system. Falcon, cover me, I'm going down.” He flew down and landed next to a sewage grate while Falcon kept the droids off his tail.

The New York sewage system had definitely seen better days—or maybe not—but villains had this thing about the cover it provided. Six months ago the team had found a mad scientist that had been experimenting on turtles in the sewers to try and create an army of hard- shelled killers. There had been a lot of Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle jokes that day.

Now Tony followed the tunnels, guided by the blue light from his hand repulsors. Every once in a while he heard a boom from the surface, and the tunnel would shake and crackle a bit.

“If this thing falls on me because Thor is shooting bolts at the ground, I'm gonna be so pissed,” he muttered.

“Sir, sensors indicate that there is a large mass heading towards you.” That was the only warning he got before he was hit in the gut by something big and metal. He hit the ground hard.

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t my old pal come to wish me luck.”

Fuck Hammer.

He was in a replica of the suit, though his was black and silver (and poorly constructed), and a large, yellowish light glowed at the center of the chest piece.

“Hey, Justin, good to see that your tech is still shitty and cheap.” Tony stood and locked on to the suit.

“You just don’t know when to quit, do you, Stark?” Hammer lifted his faceplate and smirked as he walked towards him.

“Call off the droids, asshole.”

“Not today. I’ve lived in your shadow for too long, Stark. Now the world is gonna see what HammerTech is capable of.” He snapped the faceplate down and shot through the ceiling of the tunnel.

“This guy is gonna have so many damage expenses.” Tony followed him through the hole and ended up on Main Street, where Steve and Natasha were up against twelve droids. Tony jumped in and finished them off with a few missiles.

“So, those aren’t the droids I'm looking for.”

“I don’t understand that reference,” Steve panted.

“Never mind, we’ll put Star Wars on later. Hammer’s got a suit; he’s flying around somewhere. I'm gonna go… I don’t know, slap him into the Empire State Building or something.”

“Good luck.” Steve looked at him for a moment and then nodded. “And be careful.”

“Yeah, thanks Mom.”

\--------------------

“Barton, there’s two on Astoria that are wide open,” Coulson reported from the tower. He turned to Peter. “Got any greens in that box?”

“Uh huh.”

_“Are you… are you coloring with Peter?”_ Clint sounded stunned.

“I’m making a ballerina.” And it was a good one—Phil was pretty damn proud of it.

_“Why do you need green for a ballerina?”_

“We ran out of pink when Peter decided that his robot army needed to match. Forest green or lime?”

There was a manic laugh from the comm line. _“Lime. And I’ve gotta see this.”_

“Focus on the mission, Barton. Thor’s got three on his tail that he can’t shake.”

_“Yeah, yeah, I'm on it. But I expect to get a drawing as reward.”_

“You’re getting the baby blue dragon guarding a magenta striped tower. Peter’s already set it aside for you.”

_“This is the greatest day of my life.”_

\--------------------

“Okay, so that could have gone a little better.” Tony picked himself out of the rubble and stood, groaning.

_“Stark, what’s your status?”_ Steve demanded over the comm.

“Relax, Cap. Hammer’s down and out, we may have broken part of a synagogue but that was totally not my fault, and I think I broke a rib.” Tony twisted a little and winced. “I definitely broke a rib.”

_“The droids all fell at once here. I think they were connected to Hammer’s suit or something. Hulk’s going through the pieces now and smashing heads just to be sure.”_

“So all in all, not a bad first run after three years of retirement. Yay me.”

_“Just bring Hammer and get back here. SHIELD’s on their way.”_

SHIELD, it turned out, was only coming to pick up Hammer. When Steve asked why they hadn’t provided back- up, Fury had given a curt “not my problem” and whisked Hammer and the suit off to God knows where.

“So yeah, fuck Fury,” Tony muttered as they entered the tower.

“Seconded. Also, why in God’s name would you let Coulson babysit?” Clint punched the button for the top floor and leaned against the elevator’s railing. “He’s never even been near a kid before.”

“He dealt with you for years,” Natasha retorted. “Peter’s more mature than you are some days.”

“I’m reliving the childhood I never had.”

“You’re immature and messy and can’t own up to that.” The doors opened and Tony headed towards the living room.

“Daddy!” Tony fell back against the door as Peter jumped and tackled his legs. He was wearing a silver crown that was slightly too big for his head. “Agent and I drew pictures for all of you, Daddy, and we saw you beat the bad guys, and it was cool, and I made a pink robot army, and Agent said—”

“Okay, wait, slow down, Peter Pan. Let the team sit down and you can show us all your pictures. And why are you wearing a crown?”

Tony walked towards the couch, intending to collapse for about six hours in exhaustion. SHIELD medical had wrapped his ribs and patted him on the back, and that was about it. Frankly, he felt like shit.

He stopped when he saw Coulson, sitting on the ground with his back against the couch, coloring and wearing… a tiara. A golden tiara with pink stones.

“Umm… Phil?” Natasha stopped next to Tony and looked a little stunned.

“Yes, Agent Romanov?” Phil had a ‘ _make- a- comment- and- I- will- cut- you’_ look.

“That’s… a very nice tiara, sir.”

Coulson gave her a serious nod and deadpanned, “Thank you. Peter wanted to be king and needed a subject, so I’m princess of the castle.”

Tony lost it. He collapsed on the loveseat and clutched his sides to stop the sharp bursts of pain as he choked out a laugh.

Clint appeared next with a bottle in hand and choked on his water when he saw the scene. “Sir, that’s…I'm… you look lovely, sir. Excuse me.” He walked into the kitchen and Tony heard his gasping, hysterical laughter as the door swung closed.

"That settles it. Coulson, want a part- time job as a live-in babysitter?" Tony grinned. "It comes with your own suite and all the mac and cheese you can consume."

"Only if I get to keep the crown." Coulson arched an eyebrow in thought and finally nodded. "SHIELD living quarters are too cramped anyways."

"The crown's a little tacky, Agent, not gonna lie, but like I said: mac and cheese."

Steve settled next to Tony and leaned back. “I think it’s wonderful that Phil can play with Peter. Do you have any more crowns?” Peter nodded and ran over to his toy chest, where he pulled out a golden plastic crown with red gems.

“You wanna wear it, Cap?” he asked.

“I’d love to.” Peter climbed on the arm of the loveseat and carefully placed it on Steve’s head, where it rested slightly lopsided and a little too small. Tony lost it again.

“There. You can be the prince,” Peter nodded in satisfaction, and then climbed down and grabbed his drawings off the table. “I drew pictures for everyone! Wanna see yours?”

“Sure,” Steve grinned, leaning forward a bit and hiding a wince. His forearm was tightly wrapped in bandages after a droid had sliced it open.

“This is yours. It’s a racecar.”

“This is great, Peter! I like the colors here. Yellow and purple are very nice together.”

“Agent said it was ‘contrast’,” Peter explained, struggling over the new word.

“He’s right, see?” Steve tugged Peter over gently and pulled his sketchbook out from under some newspapers. He flipped it open to a page and pointed, “See how yellow and purple are on opposite sides of the wheel? That means they contrast. Just like orange and blue and red and green.”

“Red and green like Christmas!” Peter giggled.

“That’s right, it is.”

“Sir, Director Fury is on the line,” JARVIS cut in.

“Oh, for the love of…” Tony picked up his phone and bit out a “What?”

_“Congratulations, asshole, you’re the newest member of the Avengers.”_

“The only reason I went today is because it was my tech that Hammer tried to replicate. I'm not joining the team.”

_“Oh yes you are. The media saw you fighting with the team. Either you piss off every citizen of New York by claiming that it wasn’t you or some bullshit, or you man up and take your place as Iron Man.”_

“I…” Tony paused and watched Peter run around the room, distributing his pictures to the team.

There would always be another enemy. Some villain or mad scientist bent on controlling the city or country or world. Tony couldn’t live with himself any longer, standing by while his team—his _friends_ —were out risking their lives. Besides, saving the city meant keeping his son safe from the evil in the world.

He had to be there. To protect the one thing he couldn’t live without.

“I’m in.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Props and credit to StarkLoveStripes for the wonderful Coulson babysitting ideas!! Next chapter is done and will be up tomorrow. If you have any ideas or requests, I love hearing them— please leave a comment and I'll see what I can do!


	5. Off the Radar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: This is the kidnapping chapter. Obviously it's a happy ending, and nothing is explained in any graphic detail, but keep it in mind. There should be nothing triggering (certainly nothing major) but I don't want to take any chances.

When Peter was three years and seven months old, someone snuck in the tower and stole him in the night.

It was silent, obviously a professional job. Tony woke up the next morning completely unaware that his entire life had just fallen out from under him.

When he found Peter’s bed empty, he assumed that the boy was already in the living room, watching cartoons. When he found only Steve there, watching the news, he assumed Peter had found his way into Bruce’s lab. When that was empty, he started to worry.

“JARVIS, where exactly in the tower is my son?” he called to the ceiling as he reentered the family room. Steve turned to face him and turned down the TV.

“Scans indicate that young sir is not currently in residence,” JARVIS replied.

And that was when the panicking started.

They called Natasha, who was off at the market. She didn’t have him. They went outside to see if Clint was teaching him to climb trees. Clint just shrugged from his perch and asked if they had spoken to Natasha. Thor was off in New Mexico, Bruce was still sleeping, Sam and Bucky were training, and Coulson walked into the kitchen just as Tony had a panic attack.

“Tony, you need to breathe,” Steve spoke gently. Tony was bent over the counter in the kitchen, fingers and eyes clenched shut as he forced himself to remain conscious.

“What I need is to find my son,” he hissed. Coulson heard that and immediately walked back out. Tony hoped he was calling his contacts. “JARVIS, contact Fury and SHIELD, tell them… tell them the situation. I’m going out.”

“You’re not going anywhere,” Steve replied. His voice was firmer now, edging towards what everyone called the “Cap Tone”.

“Like hell I’m not!” Tony cried, spinning on the other man. “My son’s out there, God knows where, and I am not just going to sit here and freak out when I have a perfectly functioning suit… JARVIS, fire up the suit, I'm going out to find him—”

“You wouldn’t even know where to start looking,” Steve interrupted. “We have no idea as to who has him or where they are or what they want. You’d kill yourself from exhaustion before you ever found Peter. Just sit tight for… just a few hours, Tony, and let the others get the intel they can find.” Once the rest of the team had found out that Peter was gone, they had split up to begin their respective searches.

“Sir, Agent Coulson wishes for me to inform you that he has agents sweeping the accessible cameras from their main database and should have a list of possible locations shortly,” JARVIS cut in.

“See? Just wait until then, Tony, and then we can run through the list and see if he’s there,” Steve finished.

Tony finally nodded, shaky. He forced himself to take deep breaths and slowly unclenched his fingers.

“JARVIS, pull up the outside security camera feeds. Run a scan for Peter’s face, find out which direction they went. Then hack into the private businesses in the area and start a trail; follow them as far as you can.” He turned to Steve. “And if you give me any bullshit about violating personal freedom—”

“I was just going to ask how I can help,” Steve cut in, already moving towards the center of the living room where JARVIS had several hologram feeds pulled up.

“Don’t go,” Tony said before he could stop himself. “Please, I… I’m afraid of what I’d do if I were alone,” he finished quietly.

“I won’t. And we’ll find him, Tony.” Steve looked at him seriously and gave a short nod. “Now, how the hell do I work this thing?”

\--------------------

Steve was pissed. At Hydra, at Fury, at everyone. They’d found where Peter was being kept, thanks to Coulson’s contacts and JARVIS’ hacking, but Fury was denying them access until they could clear the area. Which, considering how the location was an abandoned building in the middle of a field in Nebraska, shouldn’t be taking this long.

“It’s been three goddamn hours, what the fuck is Fury doing? Sweeping the field with a fucking toothpick?” Bucky growled. He was pissed, too, if his language said anything. Bucky always used to curse more when he was pissed.

“It’s a matter of security,” Hill replied curtly. She claimed to be monitoring the sweep, but the team all knew she was their warden. Hill was in Fury’s pocket and she was assigned to make sure none of them tried anything stupid ahead of Fury’s schedule.

Tony hadn’t said anything in over an hour, but he hadn’t tried to run off on his own, either. He had the suit with him folded into that special briefcase of his (Steve still wasn’t sure how it fit in there, but he had learned not to ask after the last explanation had taken several hours and diagrams) and was drumming his fingers against the glass of the arc reactor sporadically. Steve didn’t blame him. He was stuck between wanting to run out and take down the Hydra base single- handedly and finding Fury and punching him in his smug face.

When Tony had tried to argue back against Fury’s orders to stay still, Fury had sent three senior agents to force Tony back with “whatever goddamn force it takes”. One of them had punched Tony in the face. That agent was currently in SHIELD medical from an unfortunate electrical shock on Natasha’s part. However, that had been a while ago, and Tony currently seemed to be in some kind of depressed slump.

“I say we give it ten more minutes and then head out on our own,” Natasha murmured from beside him. Steve glanced up, but Hill seemed to be otherwise occupied.

“When Fury finds out we pulled that he’ll send you to some godforsaken country for six months on a suicide mission. We can’t risk that,” he replied. Natasha and Clint were the only two that still officially worked for SHIELD; the others just went along with Fury for their sake.

“Peter’s in that building. If we wait too much longer, Hydra’s going to catch wind that we’re here and they’ll kill him. That’s the only risk we can’t take. Ten minutes.” With that, she turned to Clint to give him the same instructions. From there it spread around until Bruce was leaning over Tony, whispering in his ear. Tony straightened up, caught Steve’s eye, and nodded shortly.

On the ten-minute mark exactly, Natasha leaned over and quietly pinched Hill’s neck. She slumped over, and Bucky stood with two guns drawn at the other agents in the van. “Nice and easy, boys,” he gestured, and they placed their guns on the ground for Clint to retrieve. Tony unlocked the briefcase and the suit flew up and wrapped around him while Natasha put the agents to sleep.

“So Hill’s intel here says there are at least twenty Hydra agents inside,” Bucky filed through the papers quickly and tossed them in Steve’s direction. “Call it.”

“We go in soft, all at once from different points of entry.” Steve spread out the map of the building he found in the file. “Thor and Tony from the air, Nat and Bucky from the east, I’ll go in west. Clint and Sam keep at a distance for support. Bruce, you stay out here until we know Peter’s safe. Try not to Hulk out; we’d lose the element of surprise. The rest of you, take ‘em all out; if you can take a prisoner do it, but remember they’ve got their pills to keep from giving intel, so make sure they don’t get the chance to crunch down.” Steve pulled his cowl over his head and gripped his shield. “On my mark.”

It was dusk outside, dark enough to provide cover but still enough light to see the building. Thor brought in some clouds for extra coverage, and they were off.

 _“No sign of SHIELD’s sweep team,”_ Clint commented over the comm from his perch. _“Ten bucks says they stopped for a coffee break.”_

 _“One of these days I'm gonna shove a spike in Fury’s eye patch,”_ Tony muttered sharply.

_“Can I watch?”_

“Silence over the comms,” Steve replied softly. He saw Bucky and Nat approach the building and made quick work of the lock on his door. “Three, two, one.” And pushed it open.

The ground floor was dark, and gave off the appearance of an abandoned factory, but Steve knew better. Hydra liked their secrecy, especially ever since the third Reich fell.

He found a stairwell and followed it up two floors, where the guards met the end of his shield before they could raise the alarm.

 _“Clear on this end,”_ he heard Bucky whisper, and in they went.

Two hallways, six guards, and several locked doors later, and Steve found the prison hall. The windows were all blacked out, and most of the cells were empty. Fortunately, only two guards were on duty at the moment. One of them started to shout an alarm, and Steve just pulled out his gun. He didn’t have time for this.

Once the hall was clear, he went from cell to cell, squinting in the dark to see inside each. Some of them had mattresses on the floor, while others had wooden slats nailed to the wall. Neither looked comfortable. Steve resisted the urge to punch something at the thought of Peter in here for even a moment, let alone ten hours.

 _“So, I may have just killed a dog. But it was a German dog. It growled at me. Nobody call ASPCA.”_ Steve nearly jumped at the sound of Bucky’s voice.

“What ever happened to professional speak on the comms?” he muttered in reply.

“Cap?” a small voice whispered, and Steve’s heart melted. He rushed over to the last cell and saw Peter curled on a mattress on the floor.

“Hang on, kiddo,” he reassured, and stepped back to bash the lock away with his shield. The door swung open and Steve stepped in and knelt down just as Peter ran to him and collapsed in his arms. His breathing sounded raspy and sporadic—he’d probably had an asthma attack from the stress, and Steve wished he’d brought an inhaler. Instead he picked Peter up and settled him into his arms.

“Cap, can we go home?” the boy asked, slightly muffled from burrowing into Steve’s neck.

“On our way, buddy. Just hang on a little longer, okay?” He ruffled Peter’s hair and shifted him to one arm before making his way back down the hall. “I’ve got Peter in hand, on our way out,” he called into the comm. Several noises of relief sounded through the earpiece, and Steve was pretty sure he could hear Tony whisper “oh thank fucking god”.

 _“I’m heading for you now. Give me two minutes and I can get you a clear exit,”_ Natasha said curtly.

“I don’t have two minutes,” Steve replied. He peered around the corner and saw three guards headed in their direction. “Make your move now or get ready for a fire fight.”

He heard Nat curse in Russian before the line went silent. Steve could hear the guards’ boots clank against the metal floors and prayed.

A second later he heard three louder clunks and peeked around again to catch a glimpse of red hair bending over the now dead guards. “You’ve got some ace timing, Nat.” She flashed him a quick smile and kissed Peter’s cheek. Steve handed him to her and gestured out. “You take him and get to the exit—I’ll back up Bucky and clear the building.” She nodded and sprinted off.

 _“You know, I might be in love with that girl,”_ Bucky commented on their private comm line. Steve grinned.

“You say that about every dame that looks your way.”

_“Fuck you, Steve, I’ve got one arm.”_

“I’m not entirely sure how that relates.”

_“It doesn’t, I just like to remind you of my handicaps every one in a while. Get it? Handi-‘Cap’s?”_

“That wasn’t funny six months ago, Buck. Now it’s a little insulting.”

_“Fuck you, I was brainwashed.”_

Steve climbed a ladder and crept along the walkways above the main factory floor. He saw Bucky approach from the other side, and watched the four guards directly below go down to four bullets. Together, they moved to the south end of the building, picking off Hydra agents as they went.

 _“So, are you two gonna keep playing ‘fish in a barrel’, or are we gonna get big picture here?”_ Clint said. _“Because there’s a propane tank on the side of the building with my name on it.”_

“Wait until Nat’s clear; she’s got Peter with her,” Steve answered.

_“Gee, thanks, Steve, I was gonna blow the place up now, but since you said that I might wait a bit.”_

“Asshole,” Bucky muttered.

_“Fuck you Anakin.”_

“Really? I don’t even know that fucking reference.”

“Focus, everyone. We’re almost out,” Steve said.

 _“I’m clear,”_ Natasha called. _“You two get out now, then Clint can finish the job.”_

“Um,” Steve heard Bucky say. He looked down and saw thirty guards, all pointing their guns at them. “That… might be easier said than done.”

_“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”_

“It means that our present company is none too thrilled with our actions.”

Steve took a glance around and figured out his surroundings. “Hey, remember St. Malo?” he asked.

“I remember the blonde dame I slept with _in_ St. Malo,” Bucky replied. “Oh, and also you jumped off of that fucking building and landed in a pile of hay.”

Steve gestured over to a half broken window on the factory main floor and shrugged. “Same concept, but I'm not sure what’s at the bottom this time.”

“Please, like you knew that haystack was there.” Together, they jumped off the walkways amidst the sudden hail of bullets. Steve rolled off behind a machine and saw Bucky do the same, crashing into one of the guards as he did. The guard dropped his gun and Bucky slammed his head against a machine and held up his body, mouthing, _Intel._

“Thor, we’ve got a pick- up for you on the third floor south window,” Steve murmured as they crept towards the window.

“Time to play ‘catch the Nazi’!” With that, Bucky hurled the unconscious man through the window, ducking as glass rained down on them. Steve saw a streak of red as Thor grabbed the man.

“Clint! Blow the place, do it now!” Steve commanded, and then he and Bucky were jumping and all he saw was the murky black of the night and the red from the flames.

Steve really hoped something would catch them.

\--------------------

Tony saw Natasha clear the building and swooped down to meet her, popping the faceplate up as he did.

“He’s okay, just a little shaken,” she reassured him. Peter turned in her arms and cried out.

“Daddy!”

“Oh thank god,” Tony murmured, scooping him out of Natasha’s arms and clutching the boy to him. “Thank you,” he said to Natasha, who nodded curtly.

“I’m clear,” Natasha said into her comm. “You two get out now, then Clint can finish the job.”

 _“Um,”_ Tony heard Bucky say. _“That… might be easier said than done.”_

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Natasha demanded.

_“It means that our present company is none too thrilled with our actions.”_

_“Hey, remember St. Malo?”_ Steve asked.

 _“I remember the blonde dame I slept with_ in _St. Malo,”_ Bucky replied. _“Oh, and also you jumped off of that fucking building and landed in a pile of hay.”_ And didn’t that sound exactly like something Steve would do.

 _“Same concept, but I'm not sure what’s at the bottom this time.”_ Wait, the bottom of what?

_“Please, like you knew that haystack was there.”_

Tony heard movement on the other side of the comm, and the sound of gunfire. After a second Steve’s voice picked up through. _“Thor, we’ve got a pick- up for you on the third floor south window.”_

They saw Thor swoop over to that side as Bucky shouted, _“Time to play ‘catch the Nazi’!”_ Tony and Natasha ran towards the sound of glass breaking and saw Thor fly off with a man’s body.

 _“Clint! Blow the place, do it now!”_ There was a knocking sound, and then the building exploded just before they saw Steve and Bucky crash through the remaining glass and fall.

There was no time to catch them from Tony’s distance, and Sam was too far in the air. Natasha was cursing in Russian as they… splashed? Was there a fucking lake?

Peter coughed violently, and Tony immediately turned his attention to his little boy. “Peter, take a couple deep breaths, baby boy.” Wide brown eyes met his and Tony rubbed his back to stop the coughing fit. “Did they hurt you?” Peter shook his head and Tony held him a little tighter.

Steve and Bucky popped up a second later, gasping. “Okay, that wasn’t as dramatic as I thought it’d be,” Bucky coughed as they climbed out of the lake. “I’m pretty sure that was mostly toxic waste.”

“Tell me you didn’t swallow any,” Steve choked out.

“I may have swallowed some.”

“Damn it, Bucky, if we get another Hulk out of this I will be so pissed at you.”

Bucky laughed and coughed some more of the lake out of his lungs. “You know, most of our problems would never happen if we just invested in some goddamn parachutes.”

The two looked at each other for a second and then burst out laughing.

“I think the toxic waste went to your heads,” Sam grouched as he landed beside them.

Steve stood and offered a hand to Bucky. “We need to get out of here before Fury sends the cavalry on us. Does Thor have our captive?”

“He is here, Captain.” A body landed beside Steve and Thor touched down beside Tony. The demi- god gave a snort of disgust. “I say we gain what information we can from him and then throw him to the _bildshnipe_.”

“I’m sorry, the what?” Bucky asked.

“Don’t ask,” Tony shook his head.

\--------------------

Two hours later, the rest of the team had cleaned up, bandaged their wounds, and were lounging in the living room. Tony had given Peter a bath and his asthma medicine and wrapped him in the softest blanket he could find, and now the boy was sitting on Tony’s lap and eating an enormous bowl of mac and cheese. An inhaler rested on the table by them just in case.

“So, how do we deal with the Big Bad Asshole?” Clint asked.

“Fury’s gonna have our heads, that’s for sure,” Sam took a gulp of his beer and shook his head. “But we didn’t do anything wrong. We saved a little boy and killed Nazis.”

“And got him a pet,” Bucky added. The guard he had captured was currently at SHIELD awaiting interrogation after Hill had awoke to the man, gagged and tied, in the backseat of the van.

“Still, Fury likes his schedules. Us going off the plan probably gave him some major heartburn,” Tony replied, stroking Peter’s hair. “Which begs the question: what now?”

“I vote we say fuck SHIELD and go rogue,” Clint said.

“You always vote that. And quit cursing around my kid.”

“You never had to work for those… jerks.” Clint shot a guilty look towards Tony and changed his wording mid- sentence.

Steve had been quiet up until now, but he stretched and leaned forward. “We could do it.”

“Do what? Forget SHIELD and go rogue?”

“Something like that.” Steve glanced towards Tony and half- smiled. “A couple of elite groups went off on their own during the war. They still fought for the Allies, but they no longer worked for the military.”

“How’d they do it?” Natasha asked.

“Usually a private investor would sponsor them. Provide supplies and all that,” Bucky shrugged. “Some of them worked; some of them didn’t. But they didn’t have to follow orders so they were usually more effective.”

“Do it.” Tony straightened and shifted Peter in his lap. He gestured around the room. “You already live in my tower and eat my food.” He grinned. “And most importantly, it’ll piss off Fury.”

“Finally!” Clint fist- bumped Bucky and laughed. “I’ve been working with those SOBs for years, and it’s finally over. There is a God.”

Peter gently tugged Tony’s shirt and whispered, “Daddy, can we watch a movie?” They’d gotten his asthma under control, but he was still hoarse from coughing so much. Steve had looked a little murderous when he’d found out that Hydra had triggered the asthma attack on purpose as part of an experiment they’d been about to try.

“Sure, baby boy, whatever movie you want.” He handed Peter his tablet and waited while he selected a movie.

“What I really want to know is why Fury took so long with the damn sweep?” Sam asked as he walked back from the kitchen. He threw another six- pack on the table and collapsed in the armchair he’d been sitting in.

“Hill was right; it’s procedure in standard ops involving Hydra,” Natasha replied. “Although I'm not sure it was entirely procedure; that field was awfully quiet while we were entering the factory.”

“Whatever the case, Fury’s not our boss anymore. Clint, contact Agent Coulson and tell him we’re going off SHIELD’s radar,” Steve said. Clint nodded and pulled out his phone.

And that was that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's that! Thank you so much for all the wonderful support—as I've said I wrote this at 3 am on a whim, so getting over 100 kudos and over 2000 hits in 4 days is absolutely incredible!!
> 
> NEXT CHAPTER WARNING: Steve is going to have an epiphany, but in order to do it he's going to have some rough times. Injury warning and some nightmares going on. There's some character death (in Steve's nightmares but NOT in real life) that will NOT be graphic and it WILL have a happy ending. There will be another warning as a reminder at the beginning of next chapter.
> 
> If you have any suggestions or ideas, I love hearing them! Seriously, any ideas at all: leave a comment and I'll do my best to write it in as I go!!!


	6. An Epiphany

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: Steve is going to have an epiphany, but in order to do it he's going to have some rough times. Injury and some nightmares themes. There's some character death (in Steve's nightmares but NOT in real life) that will NOT be graphic and it WILL have a happy ending.

It took a near death experience for Steve to have an epiphany.

But then, he'd never been one to do things half- way. 

They’d been in the middle of battle with a mad scientist who’d decided to control New York from the city’s main power supply grid. He’d locked himself in the main power grid center, and had caused a major blackout in the entire Manhattan district.

 _“Okay, note to self: flying the suit into a major power line hurts like hell. But hey, power boost.”_ Tony flew overhead and swooped down towards the control building.

“Iron Man, fall back. Bucky and I are in the building; we can find him and end this. You focus on getting the power back on,” Steve commanded.

“You know, this is kind of like when we were in Krakow. Remember, with the Hydra base above that cinema?” Bucky grinned. “Except back then they tried to distract us with prostitutes and that God awful German vodka.”

“Is women and booze the only thing you remember from the war?” Steve sighed. Bucky shrugged as they entered the fourth floor.

“I have my priorities, you have yours. Yours were more noble than mine, sure, but still…”

 _“Are you two gonna keep reminiscing about your war flashbacks or are you planning to finish this sometime before I die?”_ Clint snapped through the comm.

“Alright, Jesus Christ, Barton. We’re on the fourth floor; it was third door on the left, right?”

_“The right, dumbass. Left side is a women’s bathroom.”_

Steve and Bucky surrounded the door and Steve kicked it open. The scientist turned and shouted… something evil- intending, Steve never paid attention to that anymore—and flipped a large red switch.

“Heads up, he’s just activated something.”

 _“Yeah, that would be the machine I just found that’s sending electric currents into the water system. Half of New York’s gonna fry in five minutes, so do me a favor and flip it off, would you?”_ Tony replied.

“Why do we have to do all the work?” Bucky muttered to Steve before throwing a punch at the scientist. He fell like a brick. “Luckily, this guy isn’t exactly a world- star athlete. Now, what buttons do I press?”

_“Umm… try a red one.”_

“They’re all red, you asshole.”

_“A big red one.”_

“Aren’t you supposed to be a genius?”

_“Well, I can’t exactly see the buttons, can I?”_

“Then hack into the fucking security cameras!”

_“I’m a little busy, Barnes!”_

Out of the corner of his eye, Steve saw the scientist’s hand move. It all happened at once; the man turned onto his back and Steve saw the glint of a gun. He moved and pushed Bucky aside as a shot rang out and pain exploded in his shoulder. Another shot and the sound of glass shattering, and the Steve was falling.

And everything went dark.

\--------------------

Tony had just finished up disabling the machine when he heard Bucky shouting through the comm. _“Fuck, stay down, asshole! Anyone in the area, Steve needs help, he got shot and fell through the window.”_

Well, that was bad. Tony took off and navigated through the power lines and machines, racing towards the control building. He saw a figure lying on the ground, tangled in a power wire, and his heart plummeted. He landed and turned Steve onto his back, saw the burn marks and the bullet wound in his shoulder, and immediately called Coulson. “Send a medical team. Steve’s in bad shape.”

\--------------------

It was dark. Steve looked around and the darkness stretched on forever. Then, slowly, it faded into gray, and then colors formed. It was like looking through a cloud of smoke.

_“Wait, wait, hold on, how is this now about me?”_

_“I’m sorry, isn’t everything?”_ And that sounded like Steve’s voice, and he was yelling at someone but he couldn’t make out who it was.

 _“Big man in a suit of armor.”_ Suit of armor? Like Tony’s? _“Take that off, what are you?”_

_“Genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist.”_

_“I know guys with none of that worth ten of you.”_ This was… Steve thought, and it came to him after a second of blank confusion. This was on the Helicarrier, when the team was fighting. When he and Tony were fighting. Did he… did he really say that to Tony? That couldn’t be right. Tony was amazing, Tony was a good man and a great father and a friend.

 _“You know, you may not be a threat, but you better stop pretending to be a hero.”_ No, that was wrong, Tony _was_ a hero. He sacrificed everything, risked his life all the time, to help the Avengers. He had a son and a company to run and he still chose to save the world. _“You’re nothing like your father, Stark. He was a great man, and you’re a selfish prick.”_

Wait. Steve had never said that.

 _“You think I’m not a hero? Let’s see you go up against Loki yourself. I’m out.”_ That was wrong. That didn’t happen, Tony hadn’t walked out.

The images were starting to take shape, and Steve watched as Tony left the lab and the team. Watched as the suit flew off the Helicarrier. Watched as, a few moments later, Loki’s minions attacked, and Tony wasn’t there. And watched as the engines failed and the Helicarrier crashed to Earth in flames.

\--------------------

“What’s wrong? Why isn’t he waking up?” Bucky paced back and forth at Steve’s bedside. “They got the bullet out, he’s all stitched up. He falls from higher distances voluntarily all the time, it never effects him like this.”

“We think that falling into the electrical cable may have damaged some of Captain Rogers’ brain functions.” The SHIELD doctor flipped through his file and shrugged a little nervously. “It’s possible that the amount of electricity caused him to go into a coma, but honestly… with the serum it’s hard to tell.”

The team had brought Steve in six hours ago, and he hadn’t moved or woken up since. Tony had left for a bit to pick up Peter, who was currently sitting in a chair by Steve’s head and drawing a picture to give to Steve when he woke up. Four more hung around the room, so “Cap would have something nice to see when he was done napping”.

Coulson entered the room and waved the doctor away. “They’ve agreed to keep Steve here until he wakes up, even though Fury’s pissed about it.” Since breaking of from the agency, the Avengers had struck up an informal deal with SHIELD—they’d continue to take occasional missions from them in return for medical assistance when needed. Coulson had become their liaison of sorts, since officially he still worked for SHIELD.

“What if he doesn’t?” Natasha, always to the point, spoke up from the corner of the room.

“Don’t say that,” Peter said stubbornly. He looked up from his drawing and scowled. “Cap’s just sleepy.”

Natasha smiled and kissed his head. “Of course, _malishka_ , but we must always look at all scenarios.”

“That one’s not an option.” Bucky collapsed in a chair and crossed his arms. “Peter’s right. Steve’s just tired.”

\--------------------

 _“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”_ Another voice cut through the darkness, and Steve turned. A man stood in the corner, calmly shaving; and there, that was Tony, lying on a metal table in a dark room.

_“What the hell did you do to me?”_

It was freezing, wherever they were. Steve looked around and saw… rocks? Was this a cave? _“What I did?”_ The other man turned. _“What I did is to save your life. I removed all the shrapnel I could, but there's a lot left, and it's headed into your atrial septum. Here, want to see?”_ He held up a glass container. _“I have a souvenir.”_

Steve stepped into the scene and looked at the container closely. There were small pieces of metal inside that rattled as Tony took it carefully. _“I’ve seen plenty of injuries like that,”_ the man explained. _“In my village we call those casualties ‘the walking dead’, because they take about a week to reach your heart.”_

 _“What is this?”_ Tony asked, gesturing towards his chest. Steve looked and saw a metal… something, something big and ugly, lodged right where the arc reactor had been.

_“That is an electromagnet hooked up to a car battery, and it’s keeping the shrapnel from entering your heart.”_

Wait. Steve remembered now, Tony talking some about a cave and a man named… Yinsen, he thought, who saved his life. This was Afghanistan. This was where Tony _got_ the reactor.

Several more men entered the cave, pointing guns and shouting. One stepped forward and began speaking rapidly.

 _“He says, 'Welcome, Tony Stark, the most famous mass murderer in the history of America’.”_ Tony wasn’t a murderer. Tony saved lives, he didn’t destroy them. _“He is honored. He wants you to build the missile. The Jericho missile that you demonstrated.”_

Tony stared the man down, unflinching. _“I refuse.”_

They dragged him off, to another section of the cave, and threw him to his knees. Two men hauled out a tub of water, and three more grabbed his shoulders and pushed him, struggling, into the water. Steve shouted and his voice was lost in the blackness.

They pushed Tony under three more times. The last time, water splashed onto the car battery on the ground, and Tony convulsed violently. They stepped away, and he sank into the inky water and didn’t move again.

\--------------------

“Two days. Two goddamn days and he still hasn’t moved. He doesn’t even flinch.” Bucky raked his fingers through his hair and paced the room some more. It was amazing there wasn’t a rut in the ground by now.

“Maybe…” Bruce paused and cleaned his glasses anxiously. “Maybe he doesn’t want to wake up. The human mind is amazing, really—maybe there’s something keeping him under.”

Peter shifted in his sleep and curled tighter into Steve’s side. After the doctors had removed most of the machines hooked to his body, Peter had climbed into the bed and refused to move until “Cap woke up and saw his drawings”. No force on earth could move the boy from Steve’s side, not without him kicking and screaming. Tony had eventually settled for pulling a recliner closer and sleeping beside the bed at night in order to watch over his son.

Clint walked in and collapsed in a chair. “The mad scientist is spilling everything. Unfortunately, none of it relates to Cap’s condition.” He sank further down and rubbed a hand over his face. “Whatever the hell’s going on in that star- spangled head better be good.”

\--------------------

_“I’m not kissing you.”_

That voice, full of authority and gravel, sounded familiar enough that Steve shook away from the last scene and peered through the fog, waiting while it slowly cleared. This one seemed more familiar for whatever reason. It skipped ahead, and Steve saw flashes of red scowls and glowing blue objects and white, white outside and everywhere, for miles and miles.

_“There’s not gonna be a safe landing, but I can try and force it down.”_

_“I’ll get Howard on the line, he’ll know what to do.”_ That was Peggy’s voice, frantic and crackling, and Steve remembered where he was.

_“There’s not enough time. This thing’s moving too fast and it’s heading for New York. I gotta put her in the water.”_

Steve didn’t want to see this. He didn’t want to remember freezing for 70 years, losing every thing he knew in one rush of icy water. He tried to turn away and found himself stuck.

_“I’m gonna need a rain check on that dance.”_

_“All right, a week next Saturday at the Stork Club.”_ And Peggy sounded like she was crying and Steve didn’t want to see this, wanted to turn away…

_“We’ll have the band play something slow. I’d hate to step on your—”_

There was a crash, and Steve was engulfed in cold, dark liquid, filling his lungs and numbing his bones and it hurt, so much, and he was still watching as the ship sank and he fell deeper and deeper.

And he waited, 50 years, then 70, then 100 and longer and longer, and no one ever found him and he was stuck, frozen in an empty wasteland with lungs full of water and it ached everywhere and he was. So. Cold.

\--------------------

“Daddy?” Peter sat up and rubbed the sleep from his eyes.

“Hey, Peter Pan.” Tony moved from the window and walked over to the bed, where the machines still beeped away and Steve hadn’t moved in five and a half days. “How’re you feeling?”

“I’m hungry. Why isn’t Cap awake yet?” Peter looked like he was going to cry. “Doesn’t he want to see my pictures?”

“Oh, baby.” Tony sat in his chair and took the little boy carefully into his arms. “I’m sure he’d like nothing more than to see all your pictures. You know he loves them, he always loves them. It’s just… Cap’s hurt, pretty badly, and he’s sleeping so he can get better.”

“But it’s been so long. What if…” Peter paused and sniffled, wiping his eyes. “What if he doesn’t get better?”

Tony didn’t want to think about that. Steve loved Peter, and had become one of Tony’s closest friends, and living in the tower without him was inconceivable, it really was. “You can’t think like that, Peter. You have to think good thoughts for Cap. He’s a super- soldier, remember? It’ll take a lot more than this to keep him down.”

\--------------------

 _“Papa, I drew a lion! Wanna see?”_ A little boy’s giggle cut through the water and ice, and Steve reached for that voice because it was warm and emerged, gasping, into the Avengers Tower.

 _“That’s a wonderful picture, buddy. You should show it to Daddy and he can hang it up.”_ A moment later, tiny feet scurried through the hallway, and Steve followed that sound into the living room, where Peter was jumping into Tony’s lap. He smiled.

_“Daddy, look, I drew a lion all by myself!”_

This Steve knew; this he wanted to see. Here there was no car batteries or alien attacks or miles of icy water. There was Peter, and Tony, and Steve was safe here.

 _“That’s amazing, Peter Pan. Did you show Papa?”_ Something was off in that sentence, but Steve couldn’t quite place what. Peter nodded and giggled. _“Well then, we should hang this on the wall. What do you think?”_

And suddenly in the doorway, there was Steve, another Steve, and he held up a roll of tape. Tony grinned and walked over. _“Here, you help him,”_ he said, and tossed Peter carefully towards Steve.

 _“Will you quit throwing him?”_ Steve replied, and walked towards the wall where several other pictures hung.

 _“Come make me.”_ And Tony was smiling, and he leaned up and then he was kissing Steve, and Peter was giggling.

_“Daddy, stop kissing Papa! He has to help me hang the picture.”_

Steve knew that was wrong, he knew that this wasn’t real. But there was a part of him that didn’t care and wanted to stay, watching this, with the sun in their hair and Peter calling him ‘papa’ and Tony kissing him like he was the whole world.

 _“Ready? One, two, three!”_ Peter called, and Steve lifted him up, and then there was a rush of wind and a new voice.

“Cap!” _Was that Peter? But he was right there, taping a picture._

“Cap!” _That’s right, Peter called him ‘Cap’, not ‘papa’. Why was he calling for him? What was going on?_

“Wake up, you gotta wake up!” _Wake up from what? Was Steve sleeping? That wasn’t right, he shouldn’t sleep this long, he might be needed, Peter might need him..._

“Ready? One, two, three…”

\--------------------

Down the hall, Phil heard machines going crazy; curious, he leaned out of the conference room he’d been getting coffee in. Some of the nurses were rushing back and forth, shouting at each other. The lights were flickering and heart monitors were wildly beeping in every room, and all Coulson could think was _holy shit, Peter’s in the room with Steve._ He took off down the hall and ran into the room.

And Steve, who’d been in a coma for seven days, was sitting up in bed with Peter tucked in his lap, looking through the array of pictures left around his room. Steve looked up and smiled.

“I’m starved.”

Coulson looked back into the hall, but the lights were fine again and the machines had settled. He shut the door and collapsed in a chair, suddenly exhausted. Peter grinned and clapped his hands.

“Agent, guess what! I told Cap he had to wake up, and I counted and every thing, and he did! He woke up all on his own, and he wanted to see my pictures and he’s all better now!”

“That’s… that’s great, Peter.” Phil rubbed a hand over his face and smiled. “That’s great. How’re you feeling, Steve?”

The soldier shrugged. “Like I said, I'm pretty hungry. Think there’s someplace we can get food?”

“It’s 3 in the morning, but… I think there’s ice cream in the cafeteria.”

Half an hour later, Tony walked with the team through the empty hall in medical, exhausted and pissed.

“If Fury wants to kick Steve out he’ll have to do it over my cold, dead body,” Clint hissed.

“Seconded.” Bucky had left the meeting early, claiming he had something else to do. They’d found him in the gym afterwards, panting and surrounded by broken punching bags.

From down the hall, Coulson leaned out of Steve’s door and waved at them. “You guys should come see this.” Tony led the way and pushed open the door.

And there was Steve, sitting up in bed and wearing a clean white shirt and blue hospital pants, with Peter in his lap and some Disney movie on TV and a bowl of ice cream between them. They were looking through Peter’s drawings, and every once in a while Steve would point to something and whisper to Peter and the boy would beam at the man and nod and _oh my god Steve was awake._

“Seriously? What the hell, how long has he been awake? And why is there ice cream everywhere?” Clint demanded.

“Steve was hungry. It was all we could find. There’s more on the table.” Coulson pointed with his spoon and sure enough, there were six more gallons of ice cream. “We’re watching _Sleeping Beauty_ ,” he told the team seriously, “because Peter was offended that Steve didn’t get his reference about waking up and pink and blue clothing. It was very tragic.”

“What… what the hell.” That was all Tony could manage, and then he dropped in the recliner by Steve’s bed and Peter giggled.

“Daddy said a bad word,” he told Steve.

“I think that’s something you’ll have to get used to, buddy,” Steve replied.

Tony shook his head. “You’re… awake. And giving my kid ice cream. Why are you giving my kid ice cream, do you have any idea what time it is?”

Steve shrugged. “He wasn’t planning to sleep any time soon. And it’s strawberry flavored so I'm pretty sure that’s healthier since it’s fruit. Plus, he gave me this look with big eyes and I couldn’t say no.”

“You’re a soldier, you’ve killed people, and you couldn’t resist my son’s doe eye look?” Tony turned to his son. “And you know you’re only supposed to use the doe eyes for good.”

“Ice cream is good,” Peter replied, nodding seriously.

In the corner of the room, Clint lost it.

\--------------------

“So, how’re you feeling?”

Steve turned and saw Bucky leaning against the doorframe. Everyone else was gone, either back at the tower or filling out paperwork for Steve’s medical release.

“Like I need to go run 20 miles or something. I’ve got way too much energy.” Steve shrugged his bag over his shoulder. “But other than that, fine.”

Bucky arched an eyebrow. “So, you wanna explain why it took seven days for you to wake up from a goddamn _bullet wound_?”

“I’m pretty sure I was electrocuted, too, thanks.”

“That’s not the point and you know it, Steve.”

They walked down the hall and out into the sun. Steve looked up and squinted. “I just… had some stuff to work out.”

“What kind of ‘stuff’?”

“You really can’t let this drop, can you?”

Bucky shrugged. “My closest friend goes into a catatonic state for a week to work out some big internal crisis, and you think I'm not gonna pry?”

“It’s… complicated, okay?”

“Hey, I told you I was in love with Natasha—”

“You literally say that about every girl.”

“—and that’s the point, I’ve always told you, and now I'm here to listen to you—”

“Literally every girl, Buck.”

“You’re trying to avoid the topic, don’t think I can’t tell.”

“I—I saw stuff, okay? Some things… I don’t know, other worlds or something. Alternate worlds.” Steve sighed. “Worlds where we didn’t make it here. And one where I made it… farther than here.”

Bucky stopped and leaned against a lamppost. “And what did you find out from those worlds?”

“I…” Steve stopped and looked around, and yes, this was still the 21st century and it was okay now and this was his best friend who would always accept him and—

“I’m in love with Tony Stark.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, I have so many feelings about Steve. So many, it's not even funny, seriously. 
> 
> Thank you all SO much for the kudos and comments! Remember, feel free to leave any ideas or suggestions in the comments section, I love hearing them and it's always a fun challenge to write them in!! (Credit for the ice cream scene and Peter's doe eyes idea to the ever lovely StarkLoveStripes!!)
> 
> Next one will be a master chapter of Clint/Coulson, so fair warning for anyone who's not really into that. Though it will be adorable. Just saying.


	7. A Strange Relationship

“Hey, so Stark has a new baby and it’s squishy and adorable.” Clint flopped on the couch in Coulson’s office and leaned his head against a pillow.

“How did you get in here?” Coulson replied. “Your card doesn’t have access here.”

“No swipes in the vents.” Clint grinned. “Now pay attention. There’s a mini Stark. He is adorable. Look at this picture of him.” He pulled out his phone.

“I really don’t have time—wow that’s a cute kid.”

“I know, right? I want, like, 12 of them.”

“12 is a little unrealistic. You aren’t even in a committed relationship yet,” Coulson arched an eyebrow.

“Okay, not 12. I’ll settle for 6.”

Clint and Phil’s relationship was—strange, to say the least. Phil had been Clint’s handler in the field for years, but his recent move to the Avengers had ended that. Phil had thought that they would become business acquaintances, only to see each other during missions or around the building, but Clint had insisted on arriving every day at exactly 12:17—and he meant _exactly_ 12:17—and dragging Phil to lunch.

“I’m thinking Italian today,” Clint said as Coulson gathered his coat and wallet. “There’s this family joint like four blocks over and it has this garlic bread that’s literally the most amazing thing on this planet…”

He continued his stream of chatter as they walked to the restaurant, and ate lunch, and walked back to the office. Coulson hardly had to say anything the whole time. Maybe that was why he agreed to go so often. It was a break.

“And anyways, that’s why I think we should invade Canada. So, same time tomorrow?” Clint clapped him on the shoulder and winked before sauntering off.

\--------------------

“Hey, so why haven’t you asked me to dinner yet?”

Coulson glanced up from the file he was reading. “Excuse me?”

“I asked you to lunch. I ask you to lunch every day. You could ask me to dinner once.” Clint sat on Phil’s desk and grinned. “Come on. Once?”

“I… Why… you were just dragging me to lunch as a friend. A former handler.”

Clint leaned forward. “Sure, at first. But come on. It’s been seven months. I show you my godson’s baby pictures.”

“I have no idea why Stark would make _you_ the godfather,” Phil replied seriously. This was safe ground. He could handle this.

“’Cause the only other option was Steve and Tony wants to get in his pants _way_ too much to make him some boring ‘honorary dad’. Plus, I can do card tricks and Peter loves me. So are you gonna ask me to dinner?”

He asked Clint to dinner.

It was a disaster. They went to a diner, and the guy in the booth next to them ended up drunkenly groping the waitress, so Clint turned around and punched him in the face and broke his nose. Which led to a small fight that left four men unconscious on the floor. But the waitress gave them free pie as a reward, which Clint counted as a major win.

They ended up going to dinner every day for three weeks straight. Clint would come and pick him up from his office at 6:27 pm exactly (“Why can’t you work on the fives and tens like every one else, Barton?”) and they would drive until one of them pointed out a restaurant that looked interesting or wasn’t busy or, once, because “those flamingos lights are fucking amazing”.

When Clint backed him up against the car one night and kissed him senseless, Phil was less surprised than he probably should have been.

\--------------------

“Sir, that’s…I'm… you look lovely, sir. Excuse me.”

Clint was dying. He had sprained his wrist and cut his leg and oh my god, his boyfriend was wearing a golden tiara and coloring ballerinas and it was too much. He leaned over the counter and gasped for breath between laughs.

“I hardly think it’s that funny.”

Clint grinned and grabbed Phil’s hand. “It’s a lot funnier than that, actually, but I'm in pain.”

Phil leaned against the counter and wrapped a hand around Clint’s neck. “You should be resting, then.”

“Only if you promise to be my pillow.”

Phil smiled and glanced at the door. “You shouldn’t say that when the team is so close."

They’d managed to keep their… whatever this was secret from the team, though Clint had no idea why. Phil had cited it as “personal vs. business atmosphere”. Which was silly, since the Avengers were like family to both of them.

“What’s the team gonna care?” he teased, leaning towards Phil a bit more. “If anything Stark’ll be jealous I scored first.”

“I hardly think it’s a competition.” But Phil was smiling, and that was the important thing. That smile, lifted higher on the left side than the right, had become such an important thing in Clint’s life and he didn’t even know when it had happened.

“Hey, you know what? We should go have sex. Like, really wild, really hot, pound into the bed for hours sex.” Because that was pretty important, too.

Phil smiled a little wider and pressed a kiss to his lips. “You’re like a teenage boy, you know that?” But he still tugged Clint and led him out of the kitchen quietly.

\--------------------

After Steve was in a coma for two days, Clint cornered Phil at the tower and kissed him for an hour straight. After four days, he pulled him into a supply closet and ripped their clothes off, groping and shaking and desperate. Phil let him. A member of his team was in critical condition, it was natural. Clint wanted comfort. He wanted to remind himself that someone else was there, feeling what he felt.

When Steve woke up, Phil pulled Clint into his office and did the same.

\--------------------

“Clint and I are in a relationship. We have been for about two years.”

The team had gotten together one Thursday to watch bad movies—it was some culture thing Stark had insisted on for Steve and Bucky—and Phil had just collapsed on the couch next to Clint, tie askew and sleeves rolled up, and spat it out.

The look on Clint’s face was worth it.

“Good for you. Now shut up, _Catwoman_ is on,” Stark replied.

“We’ve literally known for months; did you think it was a big surprise?” Bucky asked.

“I think it’s nice they’re opening up to us. Trust is key in a team like ours.” Steve smiled and nodded at Phil. Peter’s head popped up from its place on Steve’s legs.

“Does that mean you two are gonna be kissing now?” He grimaced.

“You bet your ass it does, kid,” Clint grinned and grabbed the back of Phil’s neck, pulling in to lock lips. It was dry and quick and public and Phil loved it.

Stark groaned. “Watch your language.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow. That was short. But I kinda just wanted to write some Clint/Phil drabble. Also, it's official now so expect it in other chapters. Awesome! As always, leave a comment if you have an idea or suggestion!!!! Also, I'm thinking about doing something small like this again for Natasha/Bucky later on, so any input on that is appreciated. :)
> 
> Next chapter is a lot of Steve/Peter feels and Steve/Tony feels. Like. A lot. You will feel the pain. And the snuggles. 
> 
> It will be gritty. But it will be worth it.


	8. Quality Time

“Okay, so I reconfigured the analysis and I think we should—”

“Stark, get your ass over here.”

Tony stopped as the elevator doors closed behind him and glanced at Clint, who was gesturing from the other side of the hall. “I’ll call you later,” he finished and hung up. “What do you want?” he asked. He’d just finished a three- hour meeting locked in a room with several stuffy old assholes and was exhausted.

“Shhh, just get your ass over here.” Clint grabbed his suit jacket and dragged him to the entryway to the living room. “Just… look.”

Tony peeked around the corner and saw Steve, nestled in the couch with Peter curled up in his lap. Steve was reading from a worn, dog- eared book softly while Peter’s head rested on his chest.

“Peter had a nightmare and was upset that you weren’t here, so he went looking for Cap. Guy took one look at the kid and grabbed a book off his shelf and he’s been reading to him for two hours straight. The best part is he picked _Peter Pan_ to read to him,” Clint whispered in explanation, and yeah, that was just about the cutest thing Tony had ever heard.

“So why are we standing here whispering?” Tony asked.

“I didn’t want to ruin the moment. Plus I took, like, four hundred pictures with Nat’s high- powered camera and I’m going to use them all as blackmail when the kid grows up.”

“You’re not blackmailing my son, Clint.” Tony turned back to the scene and smiled to himself.

“Steadily the waters rose till they were nibbling at his feet; and to pass the time until they made their final gulp, he watched the only thing on the lagoon. He thought it was a piece of floating paper, perhaps part of the kite, and wondered idly how long it would take to drift ashore,” Steve murmured as he turned a page. His free hand was lazily stroking Peter’s hair away from his forehead, and Peter’s eyes drifted shut slowly.

“I’m seriously gonna hurl from how cute this is. Good luck with that, Stark.” Clint clapped him on the shoulder and winked before sauntering away.

Tony ignored Clint’s implications and was about to walk into the living room when Peter spoke up sleepily. “Cap, do you love me and Daddy?”

Tony froze and braced himself—he’d had enough rejections for a lifetime, thank you, he knew how to handle them.

“Of course I do, Peter. I love you both very much.”

Well. That was new.

Tony had pretty much been madly in love with Steve since they’d gotten in each other’s faces in the lab at the Helicarrier. Sure, he’d had a massive crush on Captain America long before that (he had all the comics in high school, not that he’d ever tell anyone), but it was _Steve_ that made Tony’s heart do things they probably shouldn’t do. So hearing that— even if it was just a familial, teammates-who-became-friends type of love— was kind of a dream come true.

“Cap?” Peter looked up from his place on Steve’s chest sleepily. “Are you ever gonna go away?”

Steve’s smile was a little heart melting. “Never, kiddo. You’re stuck with me forever.”

“Good.” With that, Peter nuzzled his head back into Steve’s chest and returned his attention to the book.

Tony leaned against the wall for a few minutes to wipe the goofy grin off his face before making his entrance. Steve smiled when he saw him, and nudged Peter’s arm. “Look who’s back,” he whispered.

“Daddy!”

\--------------------

The next morning Tony walked into the exact same scene.

It was even cuter the second time.

“‘It was poisoned, Peter,’ she told him softly; ‘and now I am going to be dead.’” Steve read quietly.

“No, Tink, no!” Peter cried, turning frantically to Steve. “Tinker Bell can’t die, Steve!”

“Don’t worry, she’ll be okay,” Steve reassured. “Peter Pan will save her, remember?”

“Oh yeah.” Peter nodded and tapped the book. “You have to keep reading, though, so Peter can save her.”

“Oh my god, this is the most adorable thing ever. I think I'm gonna be sick.” Clint was grinning wickedly and taking multiple pictures from the kitchen, while Coulson just rolled his eyes and poured more coffee in both their mugs. Bruce sat at the table and managed to ignore everyone.

“Please don’t tell me they’ve been reading all night,” Tony whispered as he walked into the kitchen.

“Not quite. Peter woke him up about an hour ago, begging him to finish the story. Steve said he couldn’t say no—something about doe eyes, I think,” Bruce replied, turning a page of the newspaper.

“That boy could turn those eyes into a force for evil.”

“Daddy, come listen to the story!” Peter called, bouncing on Steve’s lap. Tony grinned.

“Just a second, baby. Let me get some coffee first.” Peter continued bouncing as Tony filled his cup and collapsed on the couch by Steve’s feet. “Okay, I'm ready. Where are we at?”

“Tink just swallowed the poison that Hook left for Peter, and now she’s gonna die but Peter’s gonna save her ‘cause Peter Pan’s a hero!”

“Sounds like it’s getting good.”

“Uh huh.” Peter collapsed back on Steve’s lap and tapped the book impatiently. Steve chuckled and continued from where he left off.

An hour later, the Avengers alarm sounded throughout the tower. “Sir, it appears there is a large herd of frogs on the rampage in Central Park,” JARVIS said over the speakers.

“Um. Well. Okay. That’s a new one.” Tony stood and stretched. “I guess…assemble?” He looked at Steve, who nodded and lifted Peter off his lap.

“We’ll finish afterwards, kiddo. Right now we’ve got a frog infestation to handle.”

“Who the hell looks at frogs and thinks, ‘hey, those might be good evil minions’?” Clint grumbled as he put his cup in the sink. He kissed Coulson’s cheek on the way out of the kitchen, and Peter grimaced.

“Eww, kissing,” he muttered.

“Eww is right,” Tony agreed.

“Just because you can’t get any ass, doesn’t mean I won’t shoot you for saying that!” Clint sang as he walked out.

“Watch your language!”

\--------------------

“Frogs. So many frogs. Why are there so many frogs, who even does that?” Tony brushed a frog off his shoulder and took off again. “Where are they coming from? How do we even stop this?”

_“Thor seems to have it figured out,”_ Natasha commented on the comm.

“Alas, Midgardian creatures, you shall be vanquished on this day!” Thor shouted as he shot lightning at the masses of frogs.

“Hulk seems to be having fun, too. That is… that is a lot of frog guts.” Tony cringed as Hulk stormed past, squishing merrily as he went.

_“Alright, focus on the mission,”_ Steve cut in. “ _We need to find what’s controlling them. Clint, are you seeing anything?”_

_“A shit ton of amphibians. Also there’s a large black van that’s been stationary for half an hour, and it’s occupied even though that area was evacuated. Stark or Wilson can check it out.”_

_“I’m on it,”_ Sam called as he swooped down.

_“You know this kind of reminds me of Dunkirk,”_ Bucky commented.

From the air, Tony saw Steve shoot a couple of frogs before turning to Bucky. _“How in the hell is this like Dunkirk?”_

_“To be honest, I don’t remember much of Dunkirk; just something about green and tongues.”_

_“That was because we found you in bed with three French women wearing green underthings and nothing else.”_

Bucky grinned. _“Oh yeah. Hey, we should go back to Dunkirk.”_

Tony landed and looked towards the van. “Wilson, got anything?”

A second later, the back doors of the van blew out and Wilson emerged, carrying a skinny, wild- eyed boy in a lab coat.

“I am the Reptile King!” He shouted manically.

Bucky watched them soar overhead. “Are frogs reptiles?”

“I… don’t know,” Tony replied.

“Aren’t you supposed to be a genius?”

“Hey, if it were a mechanical frog we’d be in great shape. This is just… unsanitary.” He kicked at a frog and sighed. “I’m not even sure what the point of these things were. They just hop everywhere. Clean-up’s gonna be a bitch.”

The kid laughed wildly and pulled out a remote. “I’ll show you just what the Reptile King can do!”

He pressed the button.

And that was when the explosions started.

\--------------------

“‘Stow this gab,’ roared Hook, and the spokesmen were dragged back. ‘You, boy,’ he said, addressing John, ‘you look as if you had a little pluck in you. Didst never want to be a pirate, my hearty?’”

Tony opened his eyes groggily and saw Steve sitting in a recliner with Peter in his lap, reading from the same worn old book as they had been before as if nothing had changed. Except now they were in medical and Tony was sore and lying in bed and everything sort of came rushing back.

“Did… did those frogs explode?”

“Daddy!” Peter turned and leapt onto the bed, burrowing into Tony’s chest. He covered his groan with a cough and wrapped his arms around the boy. “Daddy, you’re alive!”

“I’m fine, Peter.” Tony stroked his hair and tried to sit up. “I’m fine, I’m here, I’m just a little confused.” He looked at Steve (who was smiling in a suspiciously sappy way, but Tony let that slide for now) and rubbed his eyes. “Seriously, did that kid blow up all those frogs?”

“He only managed to get a few before Sam threw him against a building and knocked the remote out of his hands,” Steve explained. “Bucky and I got banged up some, and apparently one got close to Clint and he had to jump off another building so he’s in medical, too. But no one’s in any serious danger. You were the last to wake up.”

Tony returned his attention to Peter, who was rubbing his eyes and sniffing. “Hey, Peter Pan, I’m okay, really.” Peter looked up at him and Tony rubbed some of the tears away with his thumb. “Just a little banged up, alright?”

“I thought you was never coming back, Daddy,” he mumbled. Tony kissed his cheeks and held his boy closer.

“I’ll always come back, baby, remember?”

\--------------------

Steve watched father and son as they settled into the bed and started up their movie. Peter had insisted on spending the night now that Tony was awake, and Steve had volunteered to stay in case something else happened. Bucky had taken one look at him, clapped his shoulder, and ushered everyone out of the room.

He didn’t know what to do with himself. He’d realized what he wanted, and it was right there and staring him in the face, but something held him back. Whether it was the fear of rejection or the desire to keep things exactly as they were, he had no idea. But it hurt.

“Cap, you gotta pay attention to this movie, okay?” Peter tapped his arm repeatedly until Steve nodded.

“What happens in this one?” he asked as the now- familiar Disney logo popped onto the screen.

“The prince and the lady get turned into frogs by a mean magic man and have to break the spell.”

“Frogs,” Tony muttered. “It had to be the frog one. Speaking of which, what happened to the self- proclaimed ‘Reptile King’?”

“First off, frogs are definitely not reptiles. And I'm pretty sure Coulson took one look at the guy and threw him in a prison cell to rot.” Steve grinned. “He hasn’t left Clint’s side, though, so maybe it was Hill.”

“Those two are sickening now that they’re public.” Tony stretched a bit and winced. “How did we not notice that puppy love between them before?”

Steve shrugged and leaned against the arm of his recliner. “I guess they wanted to keep a professional look or something.”

“I wish they’d go back to that.”

This was what Steve wanted. Here, sitting with them, watching some movie that he’d seen a million times but somehow always forgot the plot to, and enjoying each other’s company. If this was all he could get, he’d take it.

The next morning, Tony complained until medical finally let him out after making him swear not to move for the next few days. Peter made sure of that by sitting on Tony’s lap all the time.

“You look like hell, you know,” Clint commented from the couch.

“Okay, that’s it.” Tony put Peter down and walked into the kitchen. “You wanna curse in this house? You’re gonna pay the price.”

“What… why are you in the kitchen, if you’re going to kill me please don’t use a frying pan, I don’t wanna end up like that guy in the blonde chick’s movie—”

“For God’s sake, Clint, the movie is called _Tangled._ We’ve watched it a million times, how do you always forget it?” Bucky groaned.

There was a bang and the team turned to see Tony with an enormous clear plastic jar. “Every time you curse around my kid, put a quarter in,” he explained. “If this is the only way I can get you to pay rent, so be it.”

“You made a swear jar, that’s so cute, you’re like a badass Martha Stewart—”

“First quarter. In the jar, chop chop Katniss.”

“Oh, come on, this is unjust. Tell him, Steve.”

Steve sat on the other couch and grinned. “You heard him, Clint. His house, his rules.”

“Fine.” Clint flicked a quarter in Tony’s direction and watched as it landed dead center in the jar. “I didn’t want that quarter anyways.” He leaned against Phil and glared at the jar. “But this isn’t over, Stark.”

“You are a terrible godfather,” Phil told him. “You could at least _try_ not to curse around Peter.”

Clint turned and looked at Phil with the same expression as a hurt puppy. “I can’t believe it, the love of my life turned against me for the enemy, I’ll never recover from this, this right here is how I die—”

“Do you ever stop talking?” Tony asked.

“Shut up, you turned Phil against me. I’m the Padmé in this scenario, my Anakin went to the Dark Side, this is awful.”

“What does that even mean?” Steve asked.

“We really need to get you two up on _Star Wars_.” Sam grinned. “In fact, I’m putting it on right now.”

“That’s like twelve hours of _Star Wars_ , no one can handle that much. Just pick, like, two,” Tony said as he flopped next to Steve and pulled Peter into his lap.

For the rest of the evening, Steve did his best to ignore the warmth at his side from the two people he loved most in this world.

\--------------------

“I have a problem,” Tony announced once the lab doors opened.

Bruce set aside his work and cleaned his glasses as he turned. “A medical problem?”

“Depends on the ‘medical’ bit. It’s a… psychological… thing.”

“I don’t do those, you should talk to someone at SHIELD…”

“We’re not with SHIELD, we’re lucky we even get to use their medical emergency room. Besides, I don’t need a shrink, I need you.”

Bruce smiled. “I’m not very good at mental diseases, you know that.” Still, he gestured to the other stool and waited until Tony sat down. “But maybe I can do something.”

“It’s not a disease, per say.” Tony drummed his fingers against the metal of the table. “I just… want these feelings to stop.”

“The Steve feelings?” Tony had confided in Bruce about his massive crush on Steve a while ago, and Bruce had always known it would come back around sooner or later.

“He’s just so nice!” Tony spun his stool and glared at a beaker. “I could pretend I don’t have a crazy sex drive for the guy, but it’s kind of hard not to get all puppy- eyed around him when he’s reading to Peter or helping baby kittens or when he does that half- smile thing when he’s amused at something or when he doesn’t get _Star Wars_ references—”

“So maybe you should do something about it,” Bruce suggested.

Tony groaned. “But then he’ll say no because he’s Captain America and he’s as straight and narrow as they come.”

“You don’t know that. Just because he had one girl that he kissed one time 70 years ago…”

“He also had that girl Sharon he was seeing for a while, don’t forget.”

“Sure, if you call ‘seeing her’ four dates and a coffee break together.”

“Plus it’s me, I’m emotionally unstable and borderline alcoholic hanging by a thread some days and workaholic all the other days plus I have a kid—”

“A kid that he happens to adore, in case you haven’t noticed. Look, Tony, you’re never going to know if you don’t try.” Bruce cleaned his glasses again. He really needed to look into contacts or something.

“I just… I don’t want to break up this team over something stupid.” Tony looked a little lost.

“Well…” Bruce looked around the room for some kind of guidance before an idea hit him. “You could just… inject it into the conversation.”

“How so?”

Bruce shrugged. “You know, find some way to ask Steve’s sexuality. Ask him if he’s interested in someone, and ask who it is if he says yes. Get…personal.”

Tony twirled a pen and thought. “I could do that,” he said slowly. “I’d need a plan, but that could work.” He tapped the pen decisively and stood. “Bruce, you are an angel amongst men.”

“I do what I can. Now get out of here, I’m trying to do science.”

\--------------------

As it turned out, Tony never had to implement his Plan: Infiltrate Steve’s Sexuality (which Clint named once he found out). The answers arrived completely by accident. And not pleasantly.

“Have you seen the news?” Natasha asked one morning as she walked into the living room. Peter had woken Tony early so he could have pancakes for breakfast, and the only other team members in the room were Bucky and Bruce, who was always up at the crack of dawn for some god- awful meditation thing he did.

“We’re watching this Avengers TV show thing. Which makes me look like a bad guy, and that kind of stings, not gonna lie,” Bucky grumbled.

“To be fair, you did try to bring down the country and kill everyone in SHIELD. Multiple times.” Tony grinned. “But we forgive you.”

“Go to hell, Stark,” he replied as he flipped a quarter into the jar. It was already halfway full.

“You people could at least try to censor yourselves.”

“Pay attention,” Natasha cut in. “Turn to the news. It’s pretty bad.”

Bucky flipped the channel and they watched as a blonde reporter with too much makeup approached a picket line in downtown Manhattan. “Ma’am, what do you have to say about this matter?” she asked a member of the crowd. The headline below read CAPTAIN AMERICA: MORAL HERO?

“Why is that a question, of course he’s a moral hero.” Bucky tossed the remote on the couch and stood to refill his coffee cup.

“Just wait,” Natasha replied.

“It’s our belief that this country is being tainted by immoral citizens and sinful behaviors,” the woman explained. “We want the world to know that we will not stand for this atrocity. We’ve used Captain America as an example of the moral righteousness that this country used to have, with the hopes that we can return to those cleaner times.” She waved a poster that said “STOP THE SINS NOW. WHAT WOULD CAP DO?”

“Okay, I’m not getting it,” Tony said. “Why is this so bad, Nat?”

“Have you seen the news?” Steve burst through the doors and waved at the TV. “Look at what they’re doing!”

“I’m definitely missing something,” Bruce muttered.

On the screen, an older man was now being interviewed. “Captain America is what this country needs. We need to stop this bill and the sin it stands for. Homosexual couples should not have the right to taint our children and ruin our society!”

“Well. That took a turn fast.” Bucky leaned against the kitchen doorframe and raised his eyebrows. “Are they really…?”

“Using my face to advocate their awful beliefs. They think that I’m against…” Steve trailed off. “It’s not right, none of it is. They can’t do this.”

Steve was clearly upset by the whole thing, so Tony turned to look at him. “Legally they can’t. There’s copyrights and whatnot on your image and the shield’s image. They can’t use your face as some bigoted campaign ad when you didn’t publically endorse it.”

Natasha folded onto the couch next to Bruce and looked at the screen thoughtfully. “We could always sue, make sure they never do this again.”

“No.” Steve’s voice turned hard. “I want them to know where I stand on this. I’m asking Phil to organize a press conference for this afternoon.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, let's recap: Steve loves Tony but doesn't want to ruin things, Tony loves Steve but doesn't want to ruin things, and Bruce is sick of all of it. What's going to happen at the press conference? Find out next chapter!
> 
> Hooray! The next chapter might take a little longer than usual to put out since I have family at my house this weekend, but I promise it'll be exciting! Also, I missed writing Science Bro moments, so I threw that in a little for kicks :)
> 
> As always, thank you for your wonderful support! If you have any ideas or suggestions, leave them in the comments and I'll do my best to work them in as I go!!


	9. Dazed and Confused

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: There's some homophobic language in this chapter, right at the beginning (it's one word only, and Steve immediately shoots the guy down, but if it makes anyone uncomfortable I don't want to take any chances).

“Thank you all for gathering on such short notice.”

The team watched from their TV while, downstairs, Steve stood before a dozen reporters in his full Captain America uniform. Peter waved at the screen and bounced on Tony’s lap.

“Daddy, why is Cap on the TV?” he asked.

“Because Cap’s going to make things clear to some bad people who have been saying mean things,” Tony replied. Steve had been pissed all day, and they had actively avoided all news channels because of it.

“I want to clear some things up on a very troubling matter I saw today,” Steve continued. “Matters concerning a protest group that has been using my image to support their ideas.” Steve grimaced. “While these… people have the right to free speech, using my image to further your cause, especially one that condemns another group of people, is wrong and shameful. Just because you believe I stand for—”

“Captain America, are you referring to the anti- gay group that’s been seen in Manhattan?” a reporter cut him off. “Why are you so against them using your image?”

“Because what they stand for does not line up with what I believe,” Steve replied angrily. “I believe in the freedoms and rights of _everyone_ in this country, and anyone who disagrees is going to have to get over it, because even I know that times are changing and you can’t fight progress!”

“Well done, Steve,” Clint clapped.

A female reporter in the front raised her hand next. “What about the right to protest, as stated in our Constitution?”

“A peaceful protest is one thing, but I’ve heard that this group shouts insults and throws trash at people they object to, and have even kicked or hit them. And even if they weren’t doing all that, the fact that they choose to hate a person simply based on who they love is unacceptable. I will not condone a bully.”

“America stands for old- fashioned morals!” A man in the back stood up suddenly, waving a sign that said FAGS WRONG FOR AMERICA. “We need to go back to when things were right!”

“When things were _right_?” Steve looked like he was about to leap over the reporters and bash this guy’s face in. Tony almost wished he would. “You mean when racism and sexism were rampant through this country, when street wars divided the city and led to mass mobs and block fights and you had to defend yourselves with rocks or pieces of wood and kids were getting shot all the while? Back when diseases like polio and smallpox and tuberculosis were real and dangerous and people—like my mother—would die from them every day? Is that the _right_ time for you? What is so wrong about loving someone? Do you think because I lived in the 1940s there were no homosexuals? I lived in Brooklyn, there were gay bars on every corner. I was in the army surrounded by men, I can guarantee you they weren’t all attracted to dames. Hell, I _am_ gay!”

Tony blinked a few times and rewound that in his head. Did he just… out himself? On live TV?

“Oh wow, that’s… I was expecting something a little more composed then that, but okay. Well done, Steve.” Bucky looked shocked, but he was grinning. The rest of the team was stunned silent.

“Did… did you know?” Tony asked. Bucky arched an eyebrow.

“How did you think I knew that the moonshine in the gay bars on our street was good?”

On the television, there was a stunned silence throughout the crowd as Steve continued. “You heard me right. I, Captain Steve Rogers, aka Captain America, am a gay man. And I have no shame in it. And if you believe that homosexuals are something wrong with this country, you can defend it yourself.” With that, he turned and walked offstage amidst a sudden storm of questions and camera flashes.

\--------------------

When Steve walked through the hallway to the living room a few minutes later, the team was still mostly processing their latest bit of information. Tony most of all. Because if badass, no- shit Steve standing up for American rights wasn’t the most attractive thing he’d ever seen, he didn’t know what was.

“So,” Steve started, looking a little remorseful. “I was going to tell you guys first, but I never got around to it, and I'm not really sure how to just throw that into a conversation, and then this whole mess came up. Sorry about that.”

Clint was the first to recover. “You are my hero,” he turned and gave Steve a high- five. “My literal hero. I might kiss you. Wait, no, I won’t, but still. Hero.”

Steve sat on the couch and shrugged. “I just didn’t want him to get away with saying that. These people need to realize what they’re saying is wrong.”

“I think it was brave of you, Steve.” Bruce nodded and turned back to the TV. “Now, what movie are we watching today?”

“Star Trek. Definitely Star Trek.” Clint grabbed the tablet and started pressing in commands. “And not that new… crap, either.” He shot Tony a death glare and tapped the screen again. The TV blared to life with the opening theme.

“I’m so glad you’re making the effort.” They had now cleaned out the swear jar over six times since putting it in. Tony had a whole drawer in his room full of quarters. He didn’t even know what to do with them, at this point, so he’d been leaving handfuls under Peter’s pillow whenever he lost a tooth or did something good and said it was fairies.

As they watched the movie, Tony kept stealing glances in Steve’s direction and thinking, _maybe_.

\--------------------

When the alarm went off the next time, it was by far the oddest battle Tony had ever been caught in. And he remembered almost none of it.

The villain had done… something, made a machine or some such device, that caused the human brain to think that their body was drunk. Like, massively, completely, totally wasted. In all honesty, it was a pretty effective device and the team probably would have been screwed if Steve and Bucky hadn’t had their serums and Thor hadn’t been… well, Thor.

Fortunately, they had, and the effects had mostly worn off. Mostly.

“This is the best couch ever.” Clint threw himself on said couch and burrowed into it, grinning enthusiastically. “I fucking love this couch.”

“It’s a really good thing that I put Peter down for a nap,” Coulson commented from his seat on the end of the couch.

Clint turned and grinned at him. “That’s why I love you.” He scooted until his head was in Coulson’s lap and sighed. “Cause you’re always thinkin’.” He tapped Coulson on the nose and giggled.

“I’m glad you’re so articulate.” Coulson sighed and seemed to resign himself to his fate, settling into the couch and carding his fingers through Clint’s hair.

The rest of the team collapsed, gulping water or lying down for a rest to try and sober up. “Let’s all agree never to do that again,” Bruce muttered, rubbing his temples. Natasha, who was lying down next to him, nodded silently in agreement.

“What are you talking about? This is awesome.” Clint was now studying Coulson’s fingers like they carried all the secrets in the universe.

“What’s wrong with him?” Coulson asked. Steve shrugged.

“He was closest to the machine when it went off. Maybe that affected him more.”

Tony, while all of this was going on, was doing his best not to panic. The haze in his mind was too familiar, too comfortable, and he could feel himself slipping back into the old habit. “I’ve gotta…I have to go,” he excused himself, and managed to walk down the hallway without stumbling. God knows he’d had years of practicing that.

He paused in front of Peter’s room, peeking in to watch his son sleep. He was dizzy, and more than a little disoriented, but he could still see Peter wrapped in his blankets, cuddling up to his ragged teddy bear.

Somewhere in his muddled, cluttered head, he focused on one clear goal: Peter. Keeping him safe, keeping him healthy. He needed to protect his son. That was the only important thing. He closed the door quietly and stumbled to his own room next door, feeling like shit. He didn’t like this anymore— he used to cherish this feeling, the hours he could spend in an oblivious cloud and away from the constant formulas and equations and ideas running through his mind.

_I need Peter now, nothing else, I don’t deserve anything else. I have Peter, that’s all I get, that’s all I deserve, I don’t even deserve that._ It kept running through his mind, like a mantra that he couldn’t shake, until he accepted it and let it wash over him.

People like Tony didn’t get good things. One was enough. Peter was enough.

\--------------------

Steve had worked up the courage for days to tell Tony how he felt. It was nerve- wracking and painstaking, but he’d done it. Now he made his way down to the workshop with lunch for Tony and Peter, and reminded himself that he could do this, and would do this, or it would eat him up from the inside.

Tony was teaching Peter how the holoscreens worked, and right now they were sitting at the bench, drawing shapes in the air and letting them fade into nothing. Steve punched in the code and watched as Tony, taking Peter’s hands in his own, traced a triangle in the air. “See? This one has three points, so it’s a triangle. Squares have four points, and circles—”

“Have no points,” Peter recited, tracing another triangle.

“Very good.” Tony kissed his head and drew a rectangle. “This is like a square, but two of the sides are longer. It’s called a rectangle. See? It has four points, too.”

“Cap!” Peter saw Steve in the doorway and waved him over. “Daddy’s teaching me shapes, wanna come learn?”

Steve smiled and placed the plates he was carrying on the worktable. “I’d love to, but you should eat first,” he replied. “Go wash your hands, they’re covered in grease.” He gestured to the dark stains on their hands and smiled.

“Peter decided he wanted to… experiment with the grease cans. We made a tower replica,” Tony explained, gesturing to the corner of the room where a large pile of cans were scattered and stacked. “We then played ‘Godzilla’ and destroyed the tower. There were no survivors.”

“How unfortunate.”

“Truly it will go down in history.” Tony seemed more dismissive today, for whatever reason. He let Peter off his lap and closed down the holoscreen displays. “Anyway, thanks for the lunch, you’re a real pal and all that.” He waved vaguely and wiped his hands on his jeans.”

“No problem.” Steve was nervous again; he leaned his elbows on the table and rubbed his hands together. “Listen, Tony—”

“Well, this has been fun, but I should probably… go, Peter’s too short to reach the sink, thanks again, you can go now.” Tony jumped up and left the room so quickly Steve didn’t even have time to register what had just happened.

Whatever it was, it kept happening over the days and weeks. Whenever Steve entered a room, Tony would find a reason to leave, or at the very least sit as far as physically possible from him. He never held a conversation that lasted more than a few seconds with him, and always seemed to avoid eye contact.

The worst part was that Steve had no idea what he had done wrong.

He thought it over and over in his head, every conversation he’d had with Tony, every move he’d made in the days before Tony shut him out, and came up completely blank. It hurt, not knowing what he had done wrong, not knowing how to fix it. Sure, he loved Tony—loved him like nothing else—but he also _liked_ Tony. He liked being around him and talking to him; Tony was one of his best friends and it hurt that he was acting like they were strangers.

Steve couldn’t even see Peter as much anymore. He couldn’t read to him or make him lunch, since he was almost always with Tony these days. He could go all day without seeing either of them. He hated it.

Whatever it was that was bothering Tony, it came to a climax three weeks later. Tony had been down in the workshop alone all day, working on some new upgrade for the armor, and Steve had brought him something to eat that evening. Tony had immediately move away, pretending to get some tool that just happened to be on the other side of the room, and Steve suddenly decided that enough was enough.

“What is your problem?” he asked, setting the plate down on the table and leaning back. “What did I do?”

“What?” Tony turned and looked at him in confusion. “Nothing, it’s… nothing, just leave it alone—”

“No, I won’t.” Steve crossed his arms. “You’ve been avoiding me, you won’t talk to me, and I want to know why.”

“Jesus, what the hell makes you think it’s about you?” Tony shouted, waving his arm. “Do you really think you’re that important to me that you could bother me like that?”

Steve stopped, because that hurt worse than anything else. He’d always thought… he’d thought they were at least friends. They had always been friendly, at least, and the fact that they were part of the same team…

He stood up straight and turned away, not wanting to hear any more. If that was how it was, then so be it. Ignoring Tony’s stare, Steve walked out of the workshop and willed his hands not to shake.

\--------------------

“Daddy, how come Cap never comes to say goodnight anymore?” Peter asked one night while Tony was tucking him in. Tony sighed.

“Cap and I… we’re having a bit of a fight. Daddy said some not very nice things,” he replied honestly.

“Are you and Cap ever gonna be friends again?”

Tony pulled the blankets around his boy’s shoulders and sat on the edge of the bed. “I don’t know, baby.”

After deciding that he couldn’t let anyone else in his life, Tony had done his best to avoid Steve. He’d hoped that the man would get the message and leave him alone, but Steve had persisted. When he’d gone down to the workshop and tried to get an answer, Tony had snapped. He hadn’t meant to say that Steve wasn’t important; it had just come out. And it had worked, maybe a little too well. Tony hadn’t seen more than fleeting glances of him for days. And every time he _had_ seen Steve, he’d had the look of a hurt puppy about him. It was sort of heart- breaking.

Peter hugged his bear and looked at Tony with wide eyes. “I thought you loved Cap, Daddy.”

“I love the whole team,” Tony replied. He left out the part that he loved the rest of the team like family, and somehow had fallen _in love_ with Steve. “But sometimes… sometimes things happen, and you can’t control them.”

“Are you ever gonna stop loving me?”

“Never, Peter Pan. I love you more than anything in the whole world.” He kissed Peter’s forehead and clicked the lights off. “Now get some sleep, okay?”

The living room was empty and dark, and Tony fell onto a couch and groaned loudly. He’d managed to mess everything up pretty badly, and he had no idea how to fix it.

Just as Tony was deciding to fuck it all and sleep for about 19 hours straight, the alarm went off and he struggled up and off the couch. “Who the fuck decides to attack a city at 9 in the evening?” he grumbled. Clint appeared, already dressed for battle, and shot him a grin.

“Remember the droids Hammer made? Someone hacked in and let them lose from SHIELD storage. Back to the old grind.”

“Fuck Hammer. Fuck him so hard. God fucking damn it. I fucking hate that son of a bitch.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s, like, 4 dollars in the swear jar.”

Tony smirked. “The rules of the swear jar don’t apply when Peter’s asleep.”

“Fuck that.” Clint unsnapped his bow and gestured out. “Let’s go; you’re driving.”

The battle itself was fairly short—whoever was controlling them was inexperienced and kept crashing the droids into buildings or trees. Actually, it was pretty funny. It was afterwards, when the streets were covered in droid parts and broken metal, that everything went to hell.

_“Somebody call SHIELD medical, now!”_ Bucky called over the comm, panic laced in his voice.

_“What’s the problem?”_ Natasha asked.

_“Steve’s hurt; it’s pretty bad.”_ And that was it. Tony took off immediately and headed for his area.

When he landed, he found Bucky bent over a prone figure, hands clasped over a wound at Steve’s side. He turned when he heard the suit and gestured over. “Come help me if you can; he’s bleeding pretty badly.”

“Sure, yeah, I can do that, what the hell happened?” Everything sort of streamed together at once, but Tony managed to deactivate the suit so he could move better and dropped to his knees, taking hold of the rag Bucky had pushed over the wound.

“Hell if I know. He should’ve called for back- up when things got too rough, but for whatever reason he stayed silent the whole fight. He’s usually pretty good about calling for help; I’ve got no clue why he wouldn’t now.”

Tony knew. He’d been the closest to Steve and the easiest to call in an emergency; Steve had let their fight get to his head and hadn’t called him when he needed help.

\--------------------

“You’re an idiot.”

Tony started awake and glared sleepily at Bruce. “I was trying to sleep, thank you very much.”

Bruce shrugged and moved from the doorway. “You’ll get over it. Why are you still here?”

Tony glanced over at Steve’s bed, where he was still unconscious. “Just to give him a familiar face to wake up to.”

“I’m not sure he’d want to see your face right now.”

“That hurts, Brucey.”

“I’m being serious, Tony.” Bruce sat in a chair and crossed his arms. “You wanna tell me what’s on your mind?”

“Nothing’s wrong, seriously, you’re all overreacting.” Tony waved a hand vaguely and grinned wryly. “Stop worrying about me. I’m a big boy, I can take care of myself.”

“Sometimes I seriously doubt that. Tony, whatever’s going on between you and Steve has to stop. For God’s sake, it landed him in the hospital. Now what exactly is the problem?”

Tony sighed and rubbed his forehead. “It’s…I don’t do well in relationships, Bruce, you know that. I'm an asshole and I'm arrogant and I can’t handle myself, I’m barely responsible enough to handle a child and I’d forget important dates and, I don’t know, I just don’t deserve something—”

“Oh, for Christ’s—Tony, that’s the most idiotic thing I’ve ever heard.” Bruce leaned forward in his chair. “You’re a good man, and a great father, and you’ve _changed_ , Tony. You’re not the most responsible person in the world, sure, but that’s part of _you_. If you don’t let this self- loathing thing go, you’re never going to be happy.”

“I have Peter, that’s all I need!”

“Peter’s the best thing that could have happened to you Tony, but you can have more.” Bruce rubbed his temples and sighed. “You deserve more, because someday Peter’s going to grow up just like all children do, and you’ll be alone again. Is that really what you want? And do you really want to spend the rest of your life awkwardly avoiding Steve like this?”

Bruce stood and walked towards the door. He paused before opening it and said, “Just think about all that you could have, Tony.” With that, he was gone.

Tony did. He sat and thought for hours, watching Steve’s chest rise and fall as his body repaired itself. He weighed all the options, calculated the scenarios and his future with or without Steve. And made a decision.

When Steve woke up later that night, Tony immediately leaned forward in his chair. “We need to talk.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, this one took a little longer because I had family over, but I did it! We're getting to the nitty gritty now folks. Thank you so much for your overwhelming support, I love you all :)
> 
> As always, if you have an ideas or suggestions please leave them in the comments section. If you have left an idea that I have no touched on yet, I'm considering a couple of bonus chapters at the end and I could put them in there. Thank you so much!!


	10. Getting Together

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eww, sex scenes. (It's not even that explicit, I'm just a baby when it comes to these things).

Steve cut through the fog in his mind and woke to Tony’s face leaning over him. “We need to talk,” he heard.

“So talk,” he croaked, coughing as he did. Tony immediately grabbed the cup of water from his bedside table and handed it to him.

“We need to talk about… this is serious, because… god damn it, I was an asshole and I'm sorry, okay?” Tony looked distressed; he carded his fingers through his hair and it stuck up in tangles and spikes. Steve watched him and absently wished he could smooth it back into place, and then remembered that Tony hated him and pushed that back.

“’S’not your fault I got hurt,” he mumbled. “Happens a lot.”

“That’s not what I'm talking about, Steve, I…” Tony groaned. “This is all my fault, fuck this, I’m such an asshole…”

“No you’re not,” and maybe it was the large amounts of drugs coursing through his veins, or the fact that Steve was literally about to burst from the emotions rolling through him, but he suddenly decided that he was done waiting and Tony was going to hear how he felt, damn it. “You’re not an asshole, you’re a good man, you’re a great father, and you’re a hero, and ‘s’not all your fault, I was stupid for thinkin’ I was important, but you’re so important to me and I wan’ you to know that. You and Peter are the mos’ important things to me.”

And boy, did that feel good.

Except now Tony was looking at him strangely, like he could see all the mysteries in the universe in Steve’s face, and that wasn’t right, Tony wasn’t supposed to care about Steve.

“You… I’m… Jesus Christ, we’re both idiots, aren’t we. I never meant to say that you weren’t important, Steve, that’s not true at all, because you _are_ important to me and I was an idiot for telling you otherwise.” Tony leaned forward and cautiously stroked Steve’s hair away from his forehead, and Steve closed his eyes for a second because that felt nice and he didn’t care if this was a dream at this point. “And you are so drugged up right now, aren’t you?” Steve nodded and Tony smiled. “But I'm going to tell you anyways because I was afraid that I don’t deserve you, and I probably don’t anyways, but I love you, Steve, and you’re so important to me.”

Steve was starting to black out again but he held on to that last part and let it wrap around his heart and mind, over and over again, because _Tony loved him._

\--------------------

The next time Steve woke up, there was a weight on his legs and a Disney song playing on the TV. He opened his eyes and saw Peter sprawled across his lower body, clutching his shabby teddy bear (it was missing an eye and more patches than actual fur, and Tony had tried to replace it multiple times but Peter was having none of that) and the blanket like they were lifelines. Tony was still in the recliner, bent over in sleep.

“Peter, you can come up here if you want,” Steve managed to say, and Peter’s head shot up. He beamed and crawled up the bed until his head was on his shoulder. His breathing sounded a little more ragged than usual, and Steve made sure to wake up Tony and find out where the inhaler was, just in case.

“Hi Cap,” he whispered. “How’re you feeling?”

Steve smiled and smoothed Peter’s hair back. “I’m fine, kiddo. Just a little banged up. How long have you been here?”

“Daddy came and got me a couple of hours ago. He said I could watch a movie here.”

“What movie are you watching?”

“The fox one where he robs people and shoots arrows.”

“You mean _Robin Hood_?” Steve thought back and vaguely remembered Clint talking about some variation of the story that involved foxes and a rooster narrator or something like that. Peter nodded.

“Yeah, he’s a good guy, just like you an’ the Avengers, right?”

“Sure he is.”

“Cap, do you still love me and Daddy?” Peter had never been subtle, that much was true.

Steve paused. “I… of course I do. You and your dad are so important to me, Peter. We just had a little… disagreement, but everything’s okay now. Do you believe me?” Peter nodded and settled in to watch his movie while Steve continued to pet his hair.

Tony woke up just as the Merry Men were freeing the citizens from jail. Peter and Steve were sitting up now, digging into a carton of ice cream together while they watched the movie. Tony smiled.

“Why is it I always find you two eating something you shouldn’t be?” he asked. Steve looked up and smiled.

“Agent brought us lots of ice cream and said Cap could eat it all ‘cause his ‘tabolism is so good and I could have some since I was a good boy and ate my veggies at lunch today,” Peter explained, nodding seriously. It was very important to him that he was allowed to eat his ice cream.

“Did he now? And Agent thought it was okay to tell you this without consulting with me?”

“Agent said he does what he wants, and gave us the ice cream.”

Steve shrugged when Tony shook his head. “That is basically what he said.”

“Don’t defend him, what is this, who exactly is on _my_ side in all this?” Tony stood up with a groan and gestured to Peter. “Let’s go, Peter Pan, you have to get to bed.”

“No!” Peter crossed his arms and pouted. “Wanna stay with Cap!”

“Cap has to rest, Peter, he can’t do that with you clinging to him in his sleep.”

“Wanna stay!”

Steve grinned and smoothed Peter’s hair. “He can stay here if he wants. I’ve been asleep long enough; I don’t mind.”

“I… Fine, but you still have to go change and brush your teeth.” Peter nodded and bounced off the bed to race for the bathroom. “There’s a change of clothes in the black bag, I figured you’d want to stay,” Tony called as the door slammed shut. He sighed. “Someday I'm going to muster up the power to refuse that boy.”

“I doubt it,” Steve replied.

“Shut up and let me dream.” Tony sat down again and looked at Steve. “So, how much do you remember from your drug- addled conversation with me earlier?”

“Umm…” In truth, he remembered almost everything—or at least, everything that mattered. Like the last part that Tony had told him. He definitely remembered that. “I remember…you said it was both our faults, and that… that…” _That I was important._

“Okay, I guess we’re doing this again.” Tony leaned forward and rested his elbows on Steve’s bed. “You _are_ important to me. Between you and Peter, you two are the most important thing in my life. And I say ‘thing’ as singular because to me you’re both in the same category. You two are… you’re my _family_ , Steve, and that’s all I want, and I get it if you’re still pissed at me, but I know you care about me and don’t you dare say otherwise because you’ve been giving me puppy eyes for months, months Steve, and it’s getting a little annoying that I can’t make them back, damn it.”

“Swear jar,” Steve muttered instinctively. Tony grinned.

“Peter can’t hear me, it doesn’t count.”

“You make Clint put money in when Peter’s not around.”

“Clint is a terrible influence, I never should have made him godfather, he needs to be trained slowly on these matters. Anyway, this is sort of the reason I’m completely and madly in love with you and I might die here and now if you don’t say something back.” Good to know where Peter got his blunt attitude from.

“Don’t over exaggerate, you will not die. And yes,” Steve said. “I do too.”

“That is an awful confession of love.” Tony smirked. “You are going to have to do so much better than that.”

If that was how he wanted to play it, fine. Steve leaned over, grabbed Tony’s shirt, and hauled him up to press a kiss to his lips, right then and there. And wow, that was nice, because Tony’s lips were dry and chapped and tasted vaguely like coconut and grease and it was so _Tony_ that Steve almost forgot to breathe.

And Tony was kissing him right back, which was even better, and Steve could have stayed like that forever but Peter was in the next room and air was important. Eventually he let Tony go and leaned back, just a little bit, to gage Tony’s reaction.

“You are going to have to do that so much more often, oh my god.”

So yeah, things were pretty nice.

\--------------------

“Why is it that you two can cuddle but when Phil and I do it, it’s ‘horrifying’ and ‘we should go back to the closet’?”

“It’s my tower, I’ll cuddle with whoever I like, thank you very much. Also, Agent should never, ever cuddle. It’s unnatural.” Tony stuck out his tongue and burrowed closer into Steve’s chest. They were lounging sideways on the couch while Peter watched cartoons on the ground beside them. Tony was doing some big new invention on his tablet with holograms and formulas and god knows what else. Steve smiled and carded his fingers through Tony’s hair.

They’d been together for over two months now and Steve could easily say he’d never been happier. It was as easy as breathing— _in, out, Tony, in, out, Tony_ — and, surprisingly enough, didn’t affect their routine much at all. Tony still spent most of his time with Peter, Steve still worked out every morning for hours at a time, bad movie nights were still every Thursday, and every night Steve got to lie in bed with the man he loved more than anything in the world.

Peter was fine with it. He was more than fine with it, honestly. They had talked long and hard about how to explain this to a five year old (“Four and a half” “Don’t you start Tony, he’s four and nine months, it’s close enough”) until Tony had thrown up his hands and declared that this was just like any other relationship, whether or not it was two men, and damn it, they weren’t going to make it complicated. So Tony had sat him down and explained that yes Daddy and Cap were going to be like Agent and Clint, and no it wouldn’t change anything except for maybe some more kissing, and yes kissing was still gross, and yes Peter could still come sleep with them if he had a bad dream. Peter had been ecstatic. “Now I have three things I can cuddle,” he’d declared, hoisting his bear up and beaming at Tony. “You, Cap, and Eugene, all at the same time.” (Yes, he’d finally named the bear, and of course it was from a Disney movie, Tony wasn’t even surprised).

Of course, Peter’s open invitation to the room made things…awkward, to say the least. They hadn’t done anything serious yet, but there was still the matter of having to answer why he and Tony were “sharing cooties” as Peter now called it. Tony rarely had an answer for that one. Steve always just muffled a laugh.

“You two are disgusting, seriously,” Clint muttered, flopping onto the other couch. “If this is half of what Phil and I are like—”

“You and Agent are ten times worse than this. I’m mentally scarred from some things I saw with you two. This is nothing,” Tony replied. He leaned his head against Steve’s shoulder and Steve’s heart sped up. He still got jittery whenever Tony was near like that. He hoped it never stopped.

“Daddy, can we have pizza tonight?” Peter asked as he colored.

“Sure, pizza sounds good, especially since—oh, wait, dang it, there needs to be an extra screw here, there we go—especially since I have to get this repulsor tech upgraded and I don’t really have time to cook.”

This was so… domestic. Steve loved it.

“Mail call. And quit cuddling.” Coulson dropped several envelopes onto Tony’s lap as he passed by.

“Still my tower,” Tony called. “Letter for you, Peter Pan.”

Peter stood and jumped over to the couch, making grabby hands at the letter. “I wanna see!” He ripped the letter open and pulled out a card. “Daddy, what does it say?”

“Sound it out for yourself.” Tony pulled him onto the couch and pointed to the words. “What’s this?”

“You’re… in… in… invited,” Peter stumbled, “To a… a… what’s that word?”

“Birthday party,” Tony finished. “It’s from Harry Osborn, says it’s a sleepover.”

“Can I go? Please please please?” Peter bounced on his lap and gave Tony his doe eye look.

“That hasn’t worked on me in years, squirt. And… we’ll talk about it. It’s not for another week, I wanna call his mom.” Tony leaned back to Steve and murmured, “Norman Osborn isn’t exactly the sanest man on this earth, he’s about two science experiments away from a death ray or some lizard mutation.”

“Don’t be ridiculous; besides, you said Norman’s hardly ever around. It’ll be fun for Peter to spend time with kids his own age. I'm sure Harry’s mom will make sure they’re safe.” Steve smiled and kissed Tony’s cheek.

“You’re supposed to be on my side.”

Steve shrugged. “He’s giving the look.”

“For god’s sake, how many years have you lived with this kid? And you can’t get past the look?”

“It’s a really cute look, Tony.”

\--------------------

Tony stood in the doorway to Peter’s bedroom, watching him stuff clothes and toiletries into a bag. He’d finally allowed Peter to go to Harry’s party (after speaking with Mrs. Osborn for a good two hours on the safety protocols for the party and being ensured that, yes, there would be at least three adults at any given time in the house and no, the children would never be alone, and yes, they had an incredibly advanced security system in their house and yes it was made by StarkIndustries) and was now fighting down his anxiety at the thought of his son being away for almost 24 whole hours. It was practically nauseating.

Steve snuck up behind him and pressed a kiss to his neck, and that helped a little bit, so Tony leaned against him and sighed. “Checklist,” he called, and Peter turned to grin at him. “Clothes?”

“Check,” Peter replied.

“Pajamas?”

“Check.”

“Toothbrush? Toothpaste?”

“Check. Check.”

“Inhaler?”

“Daddy, I don’t wanna take my inhaler.” And that was just not happening.

“You’re taking the inhaler, Peter. You can’t be without it, your asthma’s too bad.”

“But Daddy! No one else has an inhaler,” Peter complained.

“Lots of people have inhalers. Lots of people have asthma. Alice Cooper, Billy Joel, Che Guevara. The guy that wrote _Great Expectations_.”

“Charles Dickens. And how do you expect Peter to have any idea who those people are? I don’t even know most of those names,” Steve said.

“That’s not the point. The point is that my four year old—”

“He’s technically five, if you’re going to round—”

“Stop interrupting me. My _child_ is not going anywhere without the one thing he needs to _breathe._ ”

“But Daddy, everyone’ll laugh at me.” Peter flopped on the bed and pouted.

“Hang on, I’ve got something.” Steve slipped by him and pulled out one of Peter’s drawers. “Here we go,” he said as he pulled out a roll of Iron Man themed duct tape. “We’ll put this around your inhaler so it’ll be special. There’s some stickers here, too. That sound okay?” Peter nodded and crawled over to help decorate his inhaler and Tony fell a little bit more in love with Steve.

“Okay, so that’s taken care of. Socks? Extra inhaler? Underwear? Eugene?”

“Daddy.”

“Okay, okay, fine. You’re cleared. Go on and say goodbye to the team.” Peter nodded and ran out. Steve zipped up the bag and slung it over his shoulder.

“He’ll be fine, you, know,” he said as they walked down the hall. Tony shrugged.

“He’s been kidnapped before. You can’t blame me for being a little overprotective.”

“I’m not. I’m reassuring you. This’ll be good for both of you. Because right now, I'm a little horrified at the thought of having to deal with you when he goes off to school.”

“Don’t even joke about that, he’s never allowed to go to school, he’s staying here and JARVIS’ll teach him, won’t you, J?”

“I’m afraid that program is not in my system, sir,” the AI system replied.

“Traitor.”

“Tony.” Steve paused and tugged Tony against him. Tony leaned against his shoulder just because he could and he was still processing that. “It’ll be fine. Besides,” his voice lowered. “We can be alone for a little bit now.” And Tony was pretty sure his heart stopped for a second there.

“I… I have to go take Peter, but keep that in mind, definitely, I'm pretty sure my brain just melted a little there, but that sounds amazing—”

“You’re rambling. Again.”

“Shut up, you just broke my brain, work with me here.”

Tony drove Peter to the party and tried not to cling too tightly when his son hugged him goodbye. “Bye Daddy, I love you.”

“Love you too, Peter Pan. So much. Be good, okay?”

“Okie dokie.” Then Peter ran towards the house and Tony was left alone.

_Okay, I can do this, my son is growing up and he needs to do this, and Steve is…oh my god Steve is at home and we’ll be alone oh shit okay time to go home._

\--------------------

Tony fell back on the bed and watched Steve strip off his shirt. “Seriously, you look like you’re Photoshopped.”

“I don’t know what that means,” Steve smiled and climbed over him.

“Never mind, I'll explain later. Right now I'm just savoring... this. All of…” he gestured to Steve vaguely, “this. Just in general. Because it's very, very nice.”

“Rambling.”

“You’ll get used to it. Or, hey, it’ll piss you off so much you walk out. Pretty sure that’s what happened with Pepper.” Tony shoved the feelings of self- doubt back into his chest and waited anxiously.

“Nope.” Steve grinned and kissed Tony’s collarbone. “Afraid you’re stuck with me, sweetheart.”

“Oh thank god. And you have my full permission to use those sappy pet names whenever you want, because _holy fuck_.” And then Tony rolled him over until he was on top. “Okay, just so we’re clear, we’re totally having sex, right?”

“Trying to.”

“Good, we’re gonna need supplies then, like—” Tony stopped when Steve reached over into the dresser and grabbed a condom and lube. “Okay, good to know I'm dating a Boy Scout.”

“You know I actually was a Boy Scout. But I’ve been waiting for a long time for this, so I made sure everything was ready.”

“That’s adorable. You’re adorable.” Tony grinned and leaned down, kissing Steve’s chest. “Hang on, let me get your pants off, you adorable thing you.”

“‘Adorable’ isn’t exactly sexy talk, Tony.” Steve obligingly lifted his hips and let Tony strip his pants off.

“Gorgeous? Adonis? Let me know if I hit something here.”

“Do you ever stop talking?” Steve flipped them again and kissed his way down to Tony’s pant line. He unclasped them and managed to push them down to his thighs.

“You’re gonna have to find that out for—oh, shit, wow do that again—for yourself.”

Steve mouthed at Tony’s boxers again and grinned. “We should get these off.”

“We can do that, definitely.”

Afterwards, Tony curled against Steve’s chest and absently kissed his neck. “Think I managed to shut you up for a few minutes there at the end,” Steve mumbled.

“Bite your tongue. That was fantastic.”

“Maybe we should do it again, just to compare if it was really that good.”

“Oh, you and I are going to have a _lot_ of fun, baby.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow. That was so hard. Like, so hard. And that wasn't even all that explicit. Sex scenes are terrible. Also, I've changed the tags a bit, since I don't think I'm gonna be able to fit any Bucky/Nat into this one other than the minor stuff, but I'll try and get it in some others since I really do like that ship. And if I can get it in to this one, you bet your asses I will :)
> 
> As always, if you have any ideas or suggestions, leave them in the comments section! We're steam rolling through, people, and this is getting close to the end. I'm so excited! I'll definitely be putting other stories up later, I'm thinking a College AU or a Multiverse AU or maybe one sort of like this but Steve is Peter's dad. Cause dad!Steve gives me so many emotions.


	11. Okay After All

Peter’s first day of school wasn’t as bad as Steve had thought it'd be.

It was ten times worse.

Tony had been fine for most of the morning—he’d made Peter a special breakfast (dinosaur shaped pancakes), helped him get dressed and pack his backpack, and kept up a stream of chatter as Steve drove them to the elementary school. “It’ll be fun, Gwen’ll be there and Harry too. Oh, and I packed a peanut butter and banana sandwich for your lunch, and your inhaler is in the front pouch, don’t worry, it’s the one you and Cap decorated. And Cap and I will be here right at 12:30 to pick you up and we’ll go get ice cream, since you and Cap insist on eating all of the ice cream in the fridge at ungodly hours.”

They got there and dropped Peter off, and he hugged Tony and then Steve and said he loved them and waved goodbye, and Tony managed to make it to the car before he started hyperventilating.

“Tony, sweetheart, breathe, it’s okay,” Steve soothed. He pulled Tony into his arms and rubbed along his spine soothingly.

“It’s only four hours, I can do this damn it.” Tony was clearly pissed at himself. “It’s just… if I lost him…”

“You won’t,” Steve replied firmly. “You won’t lose him, he’ll be right here at 12:30 and he’ll tell you all about his day and it’ll be fine.”

In the end they just lounged on the couch and watched bad western movies for four hours, and Tony kept making awful jokes about the movies and curled tighter into Steve every once in a while.

And at 12:30 Peter was waiting right on the steps, holding a pile of drawings and wearing the biggest smile on his face.

\--------------------

“Cap? Can I ask you a question?”

Steve looked up from his sketchbook and saw Peter standing in the doorway in his pajamas. “Sure, buddy.” He gestured and Peter ran towards him. Steve pulled him up on the couch and leaned back a bit. “What’s wrong?”

“Um…” Peter looked nervous, so Steve gently combed his hair with his fingers. “How come I don’t call you ‘daddy’?”

Steve paused a moment. “Well… you already have a Daddy. It would be confusing if you had two.” He continued combing Peter’s hair.

“Yeah, but Jimmy in school has two daddies and he says it’s not confusing ‘cause he calls one ‘daddy’ and one ‘father’ and it’s okay.” Peter clenched Steve’s shirt and scrunched up his nose. “And you don’t have to be my daddy if you don’t want to but I figured since you and Daddy were always sleeping in the same bed and kissing and you drive me to school and take me to the park that it would be okay.”

“I… Peter, of course it would be okay. I…” And Steve had a vague memory of Peter leaping into his arms and showing him a lion drawing, and calling him a name that made Steve feel warm inside. “How about… how about ‘papa’? Would that be okay?”

“You really mean it?” Peter stared up at him with wide eyes. Steve smiled and kissed his head.

“Of course. I would love that, Peter.”

“Thank you, Papa!” Peter tackled him and wrapped his arms around Steve’s neck.

The next morning, when Peter woke them up by jumping on the bed and shouting, “Wake up, Daddy! Wake up, Papa!” the smile Tony gave Steve was brighter than the sun.

\--------------------

“Hey, what do I do with this thing?” Clint popped up from the kitchen and held up a turkey thermometer.

“For God’s sake, who let Clint in the kitchen?” Tony asked. He and Peter were setting the table for Thanksgiving dinner. “How many times do we have to discuss this, he’s set the oven on fire like six times.”

“It was five, the last time there weren’t any flames so it doesn’t count.”

“I’ll get him,” Coulson muttered, groaning as he stood up from the couch.

“I’m not a child! This is ridiculous, the five year old is less guarded than I am.”

“The five year old doesn’t set ovens on fire and shoot marshmallows from the top floor at passerby on the street. The five year old can hold a plate without breaking it. The five year old—”

“Fine, fine, I get it.” Clint tossed Bruce the thermometer and leaped over the bar and into the living room.

“It’s not that we don’t like you,” Bruce said as he wiped his hands on his apron. “It’s just that you have the mental capacity of a toddler.”

“I said I get it,” Clint muttered.

Steve walked in and kissed Tony’s temple. “Need any help?” he asked.

“You can keep Thor away from the biscuits.” Tony nodded towards the demi- god, who was sitting on a barstool and eyeing said biscuits murderously.

“You can bring me some pie, Papa?” Peter asked, grinning.

“I’ll do what I can.” Steve kissed Peter as he passed and entered the kitchen to help Bruce.

“Oh come on, that was a foul!” Sam shouted from the living room. Bucky groaned and leaned back against the couch. Natasha threw popcorn at the TV and sighed.

“If these refs paid as much attention to the game as they are to the cheerleaders they’d have noticed it,” she muttered.

“How are those girls not freezing? It’s gotta be freezing out there,” Jane said. She and Darcy had come up from New Mexico to spend the holidays with the rest of the team. Thor had been ecstatic.

Later, after the meal had been devoured (and really, Tony wasn’t even shocked that the team had somehow managed to eat _three turkeys_ and god knows how many other side dishes) and they had watched about three holiday movies, Tony lay awake with Steve in the soft glow of the reactor. “That was a nice family dinner,” Steve mumbled, tracing circles on Tony’s arm.

“Mmm.” And it had been nice, really—Tony didn’t know quite when the team had become ‘the family’, but he liked it.

“Tony?”

“Mmm?”

“I love you.” Steve kissed him and settled in to sleep, and Tony was pretty sure his life was perfect.

\--------------------

“Papa, wake up. It’s Christmas.”

Steve groaned and rolled over onto his side to face a wide smile and an extremely ragged bear. “Peter, it’s 5 in the morning,” he mumbled.

“But it’s Christmas!” Peter shook Steve’s arm and jumped up and down.

“Okay, I’ll make you a deal: you come lie with me and Daddy for ten minutes, and then we can wake the team up and go open gifts.”

It worked. Peter got in bed and curled around Steve, and was fast asleep within three minutes. Steve smiled and carefully rolled them over so Peter was in the middle of the bed.

“He try to wake you up early?” Tony mumbled.

“Yep.”

“He asleep again?”

“Yep.”

“Best present ever.”

Peter made it another two hours before he was up and nudging Steve’s arm again. This time he obliged and sat up, grinning as Peter next focused on Tony.

“Christ! Peter, that bear looks like it’s possessed, you can’t go shoving it into people’s faces.”

“Eugene does not look bad!”

“He used to be brown, Peter Pan.”

“He still is.”

“One patch of brown fur on his butt does not count.”

“There’s nothing wrong with Eugene, Tony.” Steve leaned over and kissed him good morning before getting out of bed. “Now come on, there’s presents waiting.”

“Don’t you start, too.”

“Presents! Come on, daddies!”

Tony groaned and fell back against the pillows. “My son had to be an early bird. He gets that from you, you know,” he claimed, pointing at Steve.

“I’m pretty sure that’s genetically impossible, Tony.”

“Don’t you go all science-y on me, it’s way too early for that.”

Tony collapsed against Steve’s chest on the couch while the team opened their gifts from each other. Steve had gotten Tony a collection of Pink Floyd CDs and a sweater, claiming “there’s literally nothing else to get the man who has everything”. Tony had upgraded Steve’s motorcycle and developed a punching bag that wouldn’t break, no matter what hit it. They’d both agreed the gifts were perfect.

Peter got a new microscope from Bruce, a couple of movies from Clint and Agent that he insisted they watch that day, a toy helicopter from Sam and Bucky, a sweater from Natasha (that Tony was pretty sure she knitted herself, and that was so weird to think about), and an industrial case of chocolate bars from Thor (“No, you cannot eat them all at once”). Tony and Steve had gotten him a new video game, a couple of books he had been begging for, and—in what was either the worst decision they’d ever made or the best—a scruffy, gray dog that came bounding in with Steve after he’d gone to throw the wrapping away.

Peter immediately named it Miles and didn’t let the squirming ball go all day.

\--------------------

_“What do you mean, Peter has detention?”_

“Come on, Steve, you know what detention is. Maybe corporal punishment was more accepted back when you were a kid, but it’s the same general concept—”

_“I know what it is, Tony, but he’s seven years old. What happened?”_

Tony shrugged and glanced around the school’s office idly. “That’s why I’m here. Something about hitting another kid?”

_“Peter never hits anyone.”_

“I’m sure he had a good reason for it. I’ll call you when I'm done, the principal’s here.” Tony hung up and stood to shake the woman’s hand. She gestured him into her office, where Peter was sitting in a chair and looking stubborn. This should be fun.

“Mr. Stark, I’ve called you here because Peter received detention today,” the woman said.

“I got that. I’d like to know why. Your secretary said something about hitting?”

“I think Peter should explain.”

Peter looked guiltily at Tony and scrunched up his nose. “Flash Thompson said mean things and I hit him.”

“Okay.” At least he was being honest. Tony leaned forward in his chair. “So what did Flash say that provoked you to hit him?”

“He said… he said… he said you and Papa was going to hell.”

The principal raised an eyebrow at that. Clearly she hadn’t heard the full story yet. “Well, do you think that?” Tony asked.

“No!” Peter looked horrified. “You and Papa are the best thing ever, and Flash was saying you two were wrong and it was bad, and he said his daddy told him you were going to hell, and I said no you weren’t, and he laughed at me and pushed me and said I had wrong daddies and I hit him.”

If this principal hadn’t been there, Tony would have hugged him. Instead he bent onto his knees in front of Peter’s chair and sighed. “Peter… sometimes people are going to say mean things about me and your Papa. It’s going to hurt, sure, but you have to remember that those people… they’re morons.”

“Mr. Stark!” The principal gave him a look.

“Okay, that was a bad choice of words, but the point is that they’re not worth listening to, okay? You have to ignore them. What matters is what you think of us, kiddo.”

Given the circumstances, the principal agreed to drop the detention as long as Peter solemnly promised never to hit again. And when Steve got home and heard the story, he just smiled and kissed Peter’s forehead and made him promise the same.

When Tony got called in the next day because Peter had called Flash and his dad “morons”, he wasn’t even sorry.

\--------------------

“Daddy, how come you don’t have a ring?”

Tony closed the book they’d been reading in bed. “What kind of ring? Like a Ring Pop? Or the ring we saw in that movie, remember the one with all the funny accents and they kissed his ring to greet him…”

“Like a ring here.” Peter pointed to Tony’s ring finger. “Like all the mommies and daddies at school do.”

“You mean like… like a wedding ring?”

“Uh huh. How come you and Papa don’t have any?”

“Umm…” Tony had never thought about that, really—Steve was just a part of their life, and it had become serious so quickly that he’d never even considered it. After all, who would want to be locked to Tony for… well, forever?

“I… I don’t… you know, you should ask Papa about that. Let’s go find him.” Avoidance. One of Tony’s best qualities. Let Steve handle this shit storm.

“Papa, how come you and Daddy don’t have rings?” Kid really didn’t waste any time there. Thank god the rest of the team was out—they’d never hear the end of this otherwise.

“What kind of a ring?” Steve asked. He glanced at Tony.

“A… uh… tell him, Peter.”

“A wedding ring.” Peter climbed onto the couch with Steve and looked at him expectantly.

“Because your father never gave me one,” Steve replied.

“Don’t put this on me, hang on.” Tony collapsed on the other end of the couch.

“You mean like you were trying to put this question on me?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, that’s ridiculous...”

“So you’re saying you _do_ have an answer for Peter’s question?”

“Not so much an answer, per say, but… well…”

Steve was grinning now, the bastard. “So you don’t have an answer, which brings me back to my original statement. You never gave me one.”

“You could’ve given me one, that goes both ways.”

“So you’re saying you do want to get married?”

“Well, I’m not seeing a ring, so—” Steve threw something into Tony’s lap and he stopped. “What was that for?”

“Open it and see.” And Tony looked down and there was a black box and _oh._

“Are you… what is this, this is the most unromantic thing I’ve ever—”

“Open the box, Tony.”

“Are you kidding me, you’re not even trying at this point, you just threw it at me—”

“We’ve been together for almost four years, I’d have thought you’d lower your expectations, we’re raising a child together for God’s sake—”

Peter watched them go back and forth and sighed before crawling into Tony’s lap. He plunked the box into Tony’s hand. “Just open it already, Daddy.”

“Were you in on this? Because this just seems way too convenient. Did you employ my son to get in on this?”

“You mean did I bribe our son with ice cream to ask you why you didn’t have a wedding ring, knowing full well you’d try to force me to answer instead, all so I could get you to come in here so I could give you the ring?” Steve’s grin was even wider. “Now why would I do a thing like that?” He stood and walked over the freezer. “Chocolate or strawberry, Peter?”

“You are such a dork. I love you.”

“Prove it.”

They were married by Friday.

\--------------------

Peter cringed at the shouting and closed the door to his bedroom again. Papa and Dad had come home late from fighting bad guys, and Papa had started shouting about how irresponsible Dad was. Something about “going headfirst into the line of fire”. Peter wasn’t entirely sure what that meant, but it didn’t sound good. And, of course, Dad had immediately started shouting back and it had turned into an all- out war.

His parents didn’t fight often, but when they did it was bad. Last time they hadn’t spoken to each other for three whole days, other than to shout at each other occasionally. Sometimes Peter wasn’t even sure if they knew what they were arguing about, but they were too stubborn to admit one of them was wrong.

“Of all the stupid, cocky things you’ve ever done, this takes the cake, Tony.”

“Excuse me for _stopping the damn monster_.”

Peter sighed and fell head first onto the bed. This one was awful.

Later that night, when Dad came into say goodnight, Peter was already curled in his blanket. Dad kissed his forehead and grabbed the book they’d been reading.

“What page were we on?” he asked as he flipped through the book.

“Are you and Papa getting a divorce?”

Dad stopped and looked at him. “Why would you think a thing like that?”

Peter shrugged and tried not to let Dad see him cry. “You and Papa fight and yell at each other and Rachel from school says that’s what happened when her parents got a divorce, and Bryan’s parents are getting one and they yell at each other outside the school when they pick him up. And a bunch of other kids in fourth grade and even fifth grade say their parents are divorced. But I don’t want you guys to get divorced, ‘cause then I’ll have to move around and you guys’ll yell even more and you won’t kiss, even though it’s gross.”

“Oh, baby.” Dad put down the book and wrapped his arms around Peter, and he felt a little better after that because Dad had always been there for him. “Your pops and I… we love each other, very much, and that’s why we yell.”

“I don’t get it.” Peter buried his head in Dad’s chest and watched the reactor glow.

“Well… I did something… pretty stupid today, while we were fighting the bad guys. It was reckless and stupid, and Papa got mad at me because of it. He got mad because he… well, he loves me. And I have you and him to think about, and it scared him, I think.” Dad rubbed his back and kissed his head. “And I’m too stubborn to admit that I did something wrong, so that’s why we were arguing.”

“So you’re not getting a divorce?” Peter asked.

“Never. Your pops is the one that proposed, so he’s stuck with me for the rest of his life, kiddo.”

“Wouldn’t exactly call it stuck,” Papa said from the doorway. Peter sat up and let him kiss his forehead. “What are you two doing?”

“Peter seems to think we’re getting a divorce,” Dad replied.

“Oh yeah?” Papa sat on the bed beside Dad and ruffled Peter’s hair. “Your Dad’s right, Peter. We’re not going anywhere, okay?”

“Okay.” Peter wiggled back down into his covers and listened while Dad read some more of the book.

When Peter was just about to drift off, he peeked an eye open and saw his Dad and Papa leaning towards each other. Papa kissed Dad’s cheek and Peter heard him whisper, “Sorry.”

Dad turned and Peter heard them kissing again (eww, in his _bed_ ). “Sorry,” Dad whispered back.

And Peter figured that they’d be okay after all.

 

And they were.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's over! That was so much fun! Stick around and I'll be putting out new fics in a bit, I've got some great new ideas :D
> 
> Got an idea for a fic? A prompt you'd like to see? Either leave a comment on this chapter OR go to my tumblr page (see the Notes for the url) and leave an ask for me! I'd love to hear them!!!
> 
> THANK YOU SO MUCH to everyone who's stuck with this fic from the beginning and everyone who joined in along the way! The kudos and comments mean so much to me, you guys have no idea. I love you all!!!!

**Author's Note:**

> Rated mature for eventual Steve/Tony sexual situations and some Clint/Phil Coulson. Vague kidnapping themes later on but never detailed. Later depictions of nightmares and some PTSD characteristics on Tony and Steve's parts as well as some injuries and descriptions of the trauma afterwards (I'll warn you when we get there, don't worry).
> 
> find me on [tumblr](http://halfway-punk-rock.tumblr.com/).


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